The Eastern Dolmis & The Valewood

“Every threshold has a keeper. Some keepers ask for salt. Some ask for silence. The Green Host asks for a name – and it does not mean yours.” — Dusana of the Raven Road

Theona

Three Greens, No Ninth.

The wells here hold more than water—they hold the dreams and prayers of generations. To govern is to tend these sacred spaces where the living commune with what came before.

I am a Peat-Cutter. My barrow has a false bottom. I hide debts there—and bodies.

The isles of Theona rise green and jagged from the Dolmis, their basalt cliffs wrapped in mists and moorland song. Nominally a duchy sworn to Viterra, in truth the Three Greens heed no crown but their own moots, no law but their taboos. The greatest of these is the silence of Nine: no bell tolls a ninth, no bridge counts that span, no oath dares its syllable.

The Viterran sheriffs call it superstition. The Green Host calls it trespass. The difference is that the sheriffs will hang you. The Green Host will take your name, and you will wander the mist until you forget you ever had one.

Never pour the ninth cup at a feast. Never speak the ninth name in a bargain. Never step where a step is missing. The Green Host rides for those who complete what should remain incomplete.

— Celia, Hedge-Witch Midwife, who has tied nine thousand knots and untied nine

What do people eat for breakfast? Oatcakes and heather ale—the oats are grown on terraced hillsides, the heather is harvested from the high moors. The ale is brewed in secret, by women who have forgotten more recipes than the men will ever learn. The men do not ask. The men are wise.

What does a child learn before they can walk? To count to eight. Theona children are taught numbers on their fingers—eight fingers, two thumbs. The thumbs are not counted. The thumbs are for pointing. Pointing is for warnings. Warnings are for the ninth thing.

What is the first thing you notice about a stranger? Their shadow. Theona is a land of mists and twilight. A stranger whose shadow is too short has been touched by the Host. A stranger whose shadow is too long is running from them. A stranger with no shadow is already taken. Do not speak to them. Do not meet their eyes. Do not offer them salt.

What is the most common crime? Breaking the ninth taboo—but breaking the taboo is not a crime, it is an invitation. The Host rides for those who pour the ninth cup, speak the ninth name, or take the ninth step. The Host does not arrest. The Host takes. The taken are never found. Their empty cups remain on the table. The cups are warm for three days.

What does no one talk about but everyone knows? The Green Host are not ghosts. They are the living—Theonans who broke the taboo and were taken. They ride with the King in Green, who was once a chieftain of the northern isle. He broke the ninth vow. He was not taken. He was crowned. His crown is made of thorns. His throne is a barrow. His court is the mist.

Where do people go when they die? To the barrows. Theona’s dead are buried in long, low mounds that line the eastern cliffs. The mounds are planted with gorse and broom. The gorse blooms yellow in spring. The yellow is for mourning. The broom is for memory. The dead are not mourned. The dead are remembered. Remembering is enough.

How do you apologize for a serious wrong? You walk the Ninth Mile—a stretch of road that circles the central isle. The road is nine miles long. You must walk it at night, alone, with no light. If you reach the end by dawn, you are forgiven. If you do not, the Host will find you. The Host is always looking. The Host is always waiting.

What is the most important festival? The Feast of the Eighth Cup (autumn equinox). Every household pours eight cups of mead—one for each of the living generations. The ninth cup is poured onto the ground. The ground drinks. The ancestors listen. The ancestors do not answer.

What is the secret that could destroy a powerful person? The Three-Isles King is a changeling. The real king died in 798 AR, drowned in a peat bog while hunting. The changeling was placed by the Lady Beneath as part of a bargain. The bargain was for peace between the isles. The peace has held. The changeling has aged. The changeling’s reflection does not.

Theona — “Three Greens, No Ninth”

Key Demographics: Humans Capital City: Inis na gCúig

Quick Reference

Tagline: The Green Host rides for those who count to nine. Viterra counts to nine. The Everflame burns the ninth.

Abbess Caelia of Whiterick (Everflame): “The Viterran sheriffs count heads for tax. The Moot-keepers count steps for safety. I count souls for salvation. Nine is a sin. Eight is a compromise. Only the Flame is whole.”

Matron of Wells (Theona): “The wells here hold more than water—they hold the dreams and the breath of generations. The Viterran sheriffs call it superstition. The Abbess calls it heresy. The Green Host calls it trespass.”

The isles of Theona rise green and jagged from the Dolmis, their basalt cliffs wrapped in mists and moorland song. Nominally a duchy sworn to Viterra, in truth the Three Greens heed no crown but their own moots, no law but their taboos. The greatest of these is the silence of Nine: no bell tolls a ninth, no bridge counts that span, no oath dares its syllable. It is said that those who break the ban invite the Green Host—the Aos Sı́, the elder folk who were here before the first Viterran longship.

The Viterran crown claims the isles by right of conquest and papal bull. Its sheriffs impose common law, its bishops raise stone steeples. But the Church of the Everflame watches from Whiterick Abbey. The Abbess schemes to preserve power by pitting Viterra, the native factions, and raiders against each other, seeking to purge the “pagan” taboos and impose imperial orthodoxy. To break a taboo is to invite not only the fae but the inquisitor. The sheriff leaves a noose. The Host leaves a hollow in the mist where your name used to be. The Abbess leaves a brand that burns until confession.

What you notice first: The smell of wet peat and salt. The silence that follows every eighth bell-ring. The hawthorn and blackthorn trees at every crossroads—the fairy thorns that no local will touch, and that Viterran surveyors learn to skirt after the first one disappears.

The one rule that kills newcomers: Never pour the ninth cup at a feast. Never speak the ninth name in a bargain. Never step where a step is missing. The Green Host rides for those who complete what should remain incomplete. The Viterran sheriff will hang you for the same offense—but the Host takes your name, not your neck. The Everflame Inquisitor will burn you for the silence itself.

The Gray Liturgy: A Syncretic Faith of Theona

Deep in the mist-shrouded valleys and along the tide-cut stairs of Theona, a different faith endures—one that does not flee the Ninth but approaches it with ritual, witness, and the patient weight of carried secrets. The Gray Liturgy is not a foreign import. It is the old faith that was nearly erased, pushed to the fens, the barrows, the places where the ninth step is already half-taken. Its practitioners are not priests. They are keeners (who sing the dead across), well-walkers (who tend the threshold-wells), and taboo-breakers (who have taken the ninth step and returned—changed, but alive).

Where Theona’s folk practice avoids the Ninth, the Gray Liturgy engages it—ritually, carefully, with witnesses and salt and the Shepherd’s lantern. They are not heretics. They are the ones who remember what the Ninth actually is: not a demon, not a curse, but a door that was left unlocked. The Gray Liturgy carries the key.

The Saints of the Threshold (Syncretic Patrons)

The Gray Liturgy teaches that before the True Light came to Éire, there were the Naomh na Tairsı́—the Saints of the Threshold. They were not gods. They were the first to cross from death to life and return. They guide the living, carry the dead, and keep the doors between worlds from swinging shut. The Ninth (the Caillte) is not a demon—it is a saint who forgot his own name. He cannot guide because he cannot be called. The Liturgy’s highest calling is to remember him.

The Clergy (Irish Titles)

Practices of the Gray Liturgy

Saint Aodhán the Herdsman (The Pale Shepherd)

Aodhán was a herdsman who lost his flock in a blizzard. He searched for three days. On the third night, he saw a light moving through the snow—a lantern carried by a figure in gray. He followed the light to a cave. Inside, his flock was waiting, warm and unharmed. The figure in gray said: “You have found them. Now you will guide those who cannot find their own way.” Aodhán became the first Tréadaı́. His lantern is the Shepherd’s Lamp, carried by Gray Walkers. His feast day is the winter solstice.

Symbol: A lantern with a single gray flame.

Invocation: “Aodhán, who found what was lost, guide this soul to the green hills. The snow is deep. The night is long. But your lamp burns.”

Saint Lasairı́ocht of the Bells (The Confessor Beneath the Bell)

Lasairı́ocht was a nun who tended the dying in a plague village. She heard so many confessions that she began to carry the weight of the dead—their sins, their secrets, their unfinished business. One night, she rang the chapel bell at midnight. The bell cracked. The weight lifted from her shoulders and fell into the earth. A voice from the bell said: “You have carried enough. Now you will be the one who carries for others.” Lasairı́ocht is the patron of confessors. Her bell is the Clog na Faoistine (Bell of Confession). Her feast day is the first of November—the day after Samhain, when the dead are closest.

Symbol: A cracked iron bell.

Invocation: “Lasairı́ocht, who rang the bell at midnight, take this burden from my shoulders. Let the earth drink what I cannot swallow. Let the bell ring when I am empty.”

Saint Ciarán of Balance (The Unbroken Way)

Ciarán was a monk who spent seven years standing in a river, meditating, while the water flowed around him. He never moved. He never fell. When pilgrims asked how he remained still, he said: “I do not resist the water. I become it. The water flows through me. I am not still—I am the stillness between drops.” Ciarán is the patron of Well-Walkers. His meditation is taught to all who fear death. His feast day is the spring equinox, when day and night are equal.

Symbol: A standing stone with a spiral carved into it.

Invocation: “Ciarán, who stood in the river, steady my breath. The water flows around me, not through me. I am the stone. I am the still point.”

Saint Fı́onntan of the Book (The Witness)

Fı́onntan was a scribe who copied every manuscript in his monastery. When the Vikings burned the library, he saved nothing—because he had memorised every word. He spent the rest of his life dictating what he had lost. He never forgave himself for not saving the books. But he never lied about what he remembered. Fı́onntan is the patron of Truth-Tellers. His ledger is not a book of judgment—it is a book of testimony. He records what happened, not what should have happened. His feast day is the autumn equinox.

Symbol: An open book with a single gray thread marking a page.

Invocation: “Fı́onntan, who remembered what was burned, witness this crossing. Write the name in your ledger. Do not judge. Do not forgive. Only record. The truth is enough.”

An Caillte (The Lost One — The Ninth)

An Caillte was once a saint like the others. But he forgot his own name. He wandered into the fog and never returned. Now he is the Dorcha—the Darkness. He is not evil. He is forgotten. The Gray Liturgy teaches that if someone can remember his true name, he will return and the Ninth threshold will become a door instead of a wound. But no one remembers. And every year, on the night of the dark moon, he knocks. The Gray Liturgy does not open the door. They wait. They listen. They hope.

Symbol: An empty circle. A threshold with no door.

Invocation: “An Caillte, whose name is lost, we do not call you. We cannot call you. But if you remember yourself, knock twice. We will open the door.”

Note: The Liturgy does not invoke An Caillte in the same way as the other saints. He is not called upon—he is listened for. Taboo-Breakers are those who have heard him knock and lived. They are the only ones permitted to approach the Ninth threshold.

Integration with Theona Generators

When using the Gray Liturgy in Theona, add the following sprinkles to the existing generators:

Spades (Places) — Add:

• Clochán na gClog (Bell-Shrine) — A small stone hut on a misty headland. A single iron bell hangs inside, cracked and silent. Confessors ring it when a burden is transferred. The Viterran crown declared it a public nuisance. The bell rings anyway. The Abbess tried to melt it down. The bell rang in the forge. The forge went cold.

• Tobar an Chaillte (Well of the Lost One) — A sacred well that no one admits exists. The water is black and still. Taboo-Breakers drink from it before their Well-Walk. The Viterran surveyors cannot find it on any map. The Abbess’s clerics cannot find it at all. The Lady Beneath drinks from it.

Hearts (People) — Add:

• Clogaire (Confessor) — A bell-ringer who carries the weight of the dead. Her hands are scarred from ringing. She never speaks of what she has heard. The Viterran sheriff tried to compel her testimony. She rang her bell. He withdrew the charge. The Abbess tried to buy her silence. She rang her bell. The Abbess’s gold turned to ash.

• Tréadaı́ (Gray Walker) — A guide for the dying. He carries a lantern with a single gray flame. He sings the keening at deathbeds. The Viterran bishop declared his songs “unlicensed liturgy.” The songs continue. The Inquisitor declared them heretical. The Inquisitor died. The Tréadaı́ sang him across.

Clubs (Complications) — Add:

• The Unsung Bell (1 SB) — A confession is not enough. The Confessor cannot ring her bell. The weight must be carried until a witness volunteers.

• The Ninth Knock (2 SB) — An Caillte knocks at the threshold. A door that was closed now rattles. The Gray Liturgy waits. The Green Host listens.

• The Burdened Confessor (3 SB) — A Confessor collapses under the weight of unspoken sins. She cannot ring. She cannot speak. She can only wait for someone to carry her.

Diamonds (Rewards) — Add:

• Bell-Ringer’s Blessing — Once, you may ignore a Condition caused by guilt or despair. The Confessor rings her bell for you. The sound is flat, mournful, and final. The Viterran sheriff who received a blessing now sleeps through the night. The Abbess who received one now dreams only of bells.

• Gray Thread — A gray thread tied around your wrist. Cut it to transfer a burden to a willing Confessor. The thread cannot be cut by the same hand that tied it. The Viterran governor who cut his own thread now carries his own weight. He is not sleeping. The Abbess who cut a thread for another now sleeps for both.

Regional Mood: Three Greens, No Ninth

Here, peace is a ritual, and every word sharpens the blade that seals it. Theona is claimed by Viterra but ruled by moots, well-keepers, and the old faith. The Viterran sheriffs count heads for the tax-roll; the Brehon judges measure truth by the witness of cattle and the memory of old words. The Viterran bishops raise hymns to the White Flame; the well-keepers leave milk and butter at the thorn crosses. The Everflame Inquisitors count sins in the silence between prayers. Every hedge is a boundary, every bridge a negotiation, every ninth step a door the Green Host might open. And in the mist-shrouded valleys, the Gray Liturgy keeps its candles lit and its bells waiting.

Linn dragon-prows cut through the fog for raiding; Ashaani slavers hunt the coves in stolen coracles; pirates from Zakov and the Vilikari shore trade stolen goods for kelp and salt. Sidhi sailors and Aelinnel factors run cargo up the tide-stairs, and Aelaerem hedge-wives barter red thread for hawthorn passes. To the west, across the narrow sound, the Viterran crown sharpens its taxes and its nooses. Through it all, the Ninth Taboo threads every handshake, every toast, every whispered prayer. To break it is to invite the Green Host—and the Host does not relent. To break Viterran law is to invite the sheriff’s noose. To speak the silence is to invite the Everflame’s brand. The Theona have learned to break neither—and to bend all three. The Gray Liturgy has learned to listen for the knock.

Starting Location: A Moot Hill under rain, where vows are carved into standing stone and blackthorn knives gleam beside the ogham pillar. A Bride-Peacemaker draws a blade between two bloodlines. “The ninth vow was never spoken,” she says. “But the Green Host remembers. Bring us the head of the slaver who burned the eastern strand, and the feud will end. Fail, and your name will join the uncounted. Or the sheriff will take you for vagrancy—the crown has declared our moots unlawful assemblies. Or the Abbess will call it heresy. Or, if you listen closely, the Confessor’s bell will ring for you.”

Prominent NPCs of Theona

Names of Theona

Inspired by the green isles of the western sea: soft consonants, melodic vowels, and surnames that evoke a hill, a well, or a sacred grove.

(Ringfort/Well/Cliff)

Basalt tide-stairs cut into cove; everyone steps past a “missing” rung; Saint’s Well under hawthorn hung with ribbons.

Spades — Places

2. Tide-Stairs — Basalt steps into cove; everyone skips the “missing” rung. The missing step is still there—you just can’t see it. Step where it should be, or don’t step at all. The first Viterran engineer counted nine rungs aloud. He is still counting, somewhere in the fog. The Abbess tried to fill the gap with stone. The stone sank. The Confessor tied a gray thread to the missing step. The thread is still there.

3. Saint’s Well — Under hawthorn hung with ribbons and secrets; wishes tied in cloth. The ribbons are knotted in eights. The ninth knot is never tied—only imagined. The crown calls it idolatry. The Abbess calls it witchcraft. The water tastes of iron and old tongues. The Confessors drink from it before they ring.

4. Fog-Wick Tower — Burning peat; bell plays eight notes, never nine. The bell-ringer wears a mask. Underneath, he has no mouth—only a whisper. The sheriff has tried to arrest him three times. Each time, the tower was empty. The Inquisitor tried to silence the bell. The bell rang in his head. The Tréadaı́ lights his lantern at the tower. He never speaks to the ringer. They understand each other.

5. Black Bog Causeway — White stones like teeth; will-lights test your stride. The stones were set by a king who drowned. He counts each footstep from below. The Viterran surveyors replaced the stones with wooden posts. The posts burned. The Abbess claims the bog is consecrated ground. It isn’t. The Confessor walks the causeway backward. She says the stones are easier to count in reverse.

6. Cliff Ringfort — Over kelp-nets; storm-ladders creak like hymns. The ladders are hauled up at dusk. If you’re left below, you sleep with the tide. The crown calls it a “fortified dwelling without license.” The fort has no license. It has never needed one. The Everflame wants to build a chapel there. The chapel slides into the sea. The Gray Liturgy built a bell-shrine on the cliff. The bell rings at dusk. The fort still stands.

7. Barrow Field — Standing stones; birds hush at noon, the earth remembers. The stones have ears. Do not speak a secret you cannot bear to lose. The gorse hums with bees that should not be awake. The Viterran antiquary who tried to excavate one now tends the barrow as a shrine. He does not remember why. The Abbess tried to exorcise the field. The exorcism wrote itself on the stones. The Confessor left a bell on the barrow. The bell rang at midnight. The stones listened.

8. Sea-Cave Harp — Tide-ropes sing under headland; echoes bargain for safe passage. The harp has no player. It plays itself when the drowned want to speak. The crown has posted a notice: “Unauthorized musical performances prohibited.” The notices wash away. The Abbess says the music is a siren song. She listens anyway. The Tréadaı́ sings the keening with the harp. The drowned listen.

9. Uncounted Bridge — Nine-arch causeway; locals tally “eight-and-one.” The ninth arch is there—but the locals will deny it. Walk it at your own risk. The Viterran cartographer marked it on his map. His map now shows a bridge to nowhere. The Abbess tried to bless the ninth arch. The blessing curdled. The Confessor rings her bell on the ninth arch. The arch remembers.

10. Ogham Grove — Carved pillars around an absent ninth post; runes speak in silence. The missing post was a king’s vow carved in heartwood. The runes still curse his line. The Viterran bishop ordered the grove destroyed. The axes broke. The Abbess ordered it burned. The fire turned green. The Taboo-Breakers read the missing post’s absence. They say the runes are still there—you just cannot see them.

11. Coracle Harbor — Jammed in a notch; upturned boats roof the sheds. The coracles are made of hide and guilt. Each one has carried a secret. The harbormaster pays no tax. The crown cannot find him. The Abbess cannot buy him. The Confessor has a coracle. She rows it without oars. The tide moves her.

12. Green Moot Hill — Three Greens’ court; benches of turf, salt wind judges. The wind never stops. It carries the votes of the dead. The Viterran sheriff declared the moot an “illegal assembly.” The wind knocked his hat off. He has not returned. The Abbess sent a clerk to record the votes. The clerk recorded his own confession. The Tréadaı́ sings the keening at the moot’s close. The dead vote.

13. High Hall — Whale-rib beams; storm banners sleep, kings are chosen. The kings are chosen by lot—a knotted cord pulled from a pot. The cord has eight knots. The crown’s appointed governor was given the ninth knot. The knot came undone. The Abbess offered a golden cord. It strangled the bearer. The Confessor rings her bell when the king is chosen. The king remembers.

14. Lookout Cliff — One vantage where all three isles stand in a single gaze. From here, you can see the Green Host riding on the horizon—if it wants you to. You can also see the Viterran garrison on the far isle. They do not wave. You can see Whiterick Abbey’s smoke. It is always green. You can see the Confessor’s bell-shrine. The bell is ringing. You cannot hear it.

(Moot/Keeper/Court)

Peat-cutter with steady barrow and steadier gossip; well-keeper who ties ribbons and unknots feuds.

Hearts — People & Factions

2. Peat-Cutter — Steady barrow, steadier gossip; knows every hidden path. Her barrow has a false bottom. She hides keepsakes there—and the tax collector when he comes. He is always grateful. She hides Inquisitors too. They are less grateful. She has a gray thread braided into her hair. She will not say who tied it.

3. Well-Keeper — Ties ribbons, unknots feuds; wishes and wisdom in equal measure. She never ties a ninth ribbon. The ninth wish is always her own. She has wished for the sheriff’s departure every day for seven years. He is still here. She is patient. She has wished for the Abbess’s silence. The silence is growing. She leaves a ribbon at the Confessor’s bell-shrine. The bell rings. The wish is heard.

4. Kelp-Netter — Reads rip lines like currents; tide as teacher. His net has a torn patch. He sewed it with thread from a hanged man’s shirt. The hanged man was a horse thief. The net has never torn again. The thread glows in the presence of Everflame steel. He found a gray thread in the net last week. He cut it. It grew back.

5. Harp-Satirist — A few bars can end a career or a war; music as a weapon. Her harp is strung with catgut and grudges. Each string is a name. She has a string for the sheriff. She has not played it yet. She is waiting. She has a new string for the Abbess. It hums when the censer smokes. She played a note for the Confessor. The bell answered. She will not play it again.

6. Wick-Warden — Tends fog-lamps, counts in eights; guardian of the silent count. He counts on his fingers—thumb, finger, finger, finger—and stops. The ninth is for the fog. He taught the Viterran lighthouse keeper to count. The keeper lost his job. He taught the Abbess’s novice. The novice lost his tongue. He lights a lamp for the Tréadaı́. The Tréadaı́ lights his lantern from it. They have never spoken.

7. Taboo-Witness — Geas-keeper who knows which words ruin deals. She carries a bell with no clapper. She rings it with her tongue. The Viterran magistrate demanded she testify. She rang the bell. He withdrew the charge. The Inquisitor demanded she confess. She rang the bell. He confessed for her. She rings her bell when the Confessor rings hers. The sound is the same.

8. Island Abbot — Saint’s bell, tolerant smile; faith in the old ways. His bell rings eight times. The ninth ring is the silence that follows. The Viterran bishop sent a letter of censure. The abbot used it to light his fire. The Abbess sent a letter of conversion. The abbot used it to wrap his cheese. He has a gray thread on his bell’s clapper. He does not know who tied it. The bell rings truer now.

9. Green Neighbor — Polite emissary from under the hill; borrowed boots, strange customs. He never steps on a crack. He says the earth has teeth. The Viterran tax assessor stepped on a crack. He now has a limp. The Abbess’s envoy stepped on a crack. He now preaches a new gospel of dirt. He carries a gray thread in his pocket. He says it is for counting. He will not count to nine.

10. Coracle-Captain — Eight-boat flotilla; swift as rumor, sure as the tide. Her boats have no names. She says naming a vessel invites the Green Host to count it. The Viterran harbormaster tried to register one. He could not find it. It was right in front of him. The Abbess tried to buy one. The gold turned to kelp. She has a gray thread on each prow. The threads are always damp.

11. Bride-Peacemaker — Walks between bloodlines with a silver knife; peace in marriage. Her knife has a wooden blade. The families cut their palms with wood—blood without iron. The Viterran magistrate declared the ritual “superstitious.” The knife is now his letter opener. The Abbess declared it “unconsecrated.” The blade cuts her robes. She carries a gray thread in her pocket. She ties it around the hands of the wed. The knot never loosens.

12. Matron of Wells — Queen-mother in truth if not in name; wisdom in water. She drinks only from the ninth well—the one no one admits exists. The Viterran governor demanded to see it. She showed him a dry hole. He believed her. The Abbess demanded to bless it. The water boiled her hand. She has a gray thread tied around her wrist. She tied it herself. She will not say why.

13. Three-Isles King — Elected by the moots; whale-bone throne, weathered eyes. He lost his left hand to a Linn raid. The replacement is carved from hawthorn. He signs Viterran writs with the false hand. The signatures are legally binding. He is not. The Abbess claims he is a puppet. The strings are roots. He has a gray thread tied around his remaining thumb. The thread is warm.

14. Lady Beneath — Unseen queen who bargains in dreams; hawthorn’s whisper. She has no face. Those who see her forget their own names for a year. The Viterran surveyor who saw her now calls himself “John.” He does not remember his wife’s face. The Abbess claims she is a demon. The demons agree. She has a gray thread wrapped around her missing face. She will not remove it. She is waiting.

(Fog/Feud/Taboo)

Ground-mist erases tracks; horns travel, edges do not; bog-lights lure teamster off the causeway.

Clubs — Complications/Threats

2. Ground-Mist — Erases tracks; horns travel, edges do not; navigation by sound alone. The mist has a voice. It whispers your name—but only once. The Viterran patrol that entered the mist returned speaking only in questions. The Everflame patrol returned speaking in confessions. The Confessor walks into the mist willingly. She rings her bell. The mist answers. She does not tell anyone what it says.

3. Bog-Lights — Lure teamster off the causeway; recovery costs time and pride. The lights are the souls of those who broke their geas. Follow them, and you’ll never find your way back. The Viterran tax collector followed them. He now lives in the bog. He has no use for silver. The Inquisitor followed them. He found a shrine. He burned it. It grew back. The Tréadaı́ follows them. He sings the keening. The lights listen. They lead him to the dead.

4. Spoken Geas — No ninth word in parley—or the oath curdles like milk. The word you cannot speak sits on your tongue like a stone. The Viterran merchant who said “nine” in a pact now sells only in eights. His customers have not noticed. The Abbess’s priest said “nine” in a prayer. The prayer answered itself. The Confessor said “nine” once. She rang her bell. The word is gone. She cannot remember it.

5. Salt-Rot — Smokehouse fails; fish spoil, tempers rise like the tide. The salt was cut with grave dust. Someone wanted the winter to be hard. The Viterran garrison’s supplies rotted. They bought from the locals. The price was a promise. The Everflame pantry rotted. They blamed the Host. The Host blamed the Abbess. The Confessor salted her own fish with ash from her bell-shrine. The fish did not rot. The shrine is warm.

6. Procession Clash — Saint-day vs. hawthorn taboo; shutters slam, peace fractures. The saint’s banner and the green branch cannot touch. When they do, blood follows. The Viterran bishop ordered the hawthorn removed. The tree grew back overnight. The Abbess ordered the saint removed. The saint stayed. The Abbess left. The Confessor rang her bell between them. The banner and the branch parted. The crowd parted. She walked through. No one followed.

7. Wave-Count — Eighth swell, Nameless follows; boats tremble, sailors pray. The ninth swell never comes. But something rides the eighth. The Viterran customs cutter that chased a smuggling boat did not see the eighth swell. It is at the bottom. The Everflame ship saw it. It turned back. The Tréadaı́ sails into the eighth swell. He sings the keening. The Nameless listens. It turns away.

8. Ringfort Wakes — A bone-judge is “consulted”; now you’re named in the old law. The bone-judge’s skull is filled with peat smoke. It speaks in riddles—and judgments. The Viterran magistrate who ignored a bone-judge’s ruling now has no memory of the case. The Inquisitor who ignored it now has no memory of his faith. The Confessor asked the bone-judge a question. The skull was silent. She rang her bell. The skull spoke. She does not remember the answer.

9. Ninth Law — Something vital cannot be counted, measured, or named. You try to count your crew. The number keeps changing. The Viterran census taker who tried to count the islanders now lives in a cave. He counts seagulls. The Abbess’s scribe tried to count the sins. The ink ran out. The Confessor counts her bell-rings. She stops at eight. The ninth ring is silence. The silence counts.

10. Net-Surge — Harbor stairs; kelp wraps ankles and alibis like truth. The kelp moves against the current. Someone underneath is pulling. The Viterran harbormaster who tried to dredge the kelp is now missing. The kelp is thicker. The Everflame divers found a bell. It rang underwater. The Confessor dives for the bell. She rings it. The kelp loosens. The drowned listen.

11. Bride-Theft — At Moot—peace flips to feud; you’re caught mid-ritual. The stolen bride’s hand is cold. She has been dead for a year. The Viterran sheriff who tried to stop the theft now wears a wedding ring. He does not remember the wedding. The Abbess tried to sanctify the marriage. The ring turned to wood. The Confessor rings her bell at the wedding. The dead bride hears. She does not answer.

12. Mainland Return — Exile with papers; elders arrested “for progress.” The papers are stamped with a Viterran seal. The seal is still warm—and wrong. The elder who was arrested now works in the governor’s garden. He does not speak. The plants are very healthy. The Abbess offered him sanctuary. He is now her gardener. The plants are very healthy. The Confessor offered him a gray thread. He tied it around his wrist. He sleeps now. The plants are less healthy.

13. Green Host Rides — Hooves like drums, cattle scatter, sentries sleep. The riders have no faces—only masks of woven hawthorn. The Viterran garrison that saw the Host now stands watch at noon. They will not explain why. The Everflame garrison that saw the Host now prays at noon. They pray to the Host. The Tréadaı́ watches the Host ride. He lights his lantern. They do not look at him. They are not interested in the living.

14. Great Fog — Routes loop, bells lie, every promise takes the long way home. The fog is old. It remembers vows spoken to the dead and the silence that answered. The Viterran governor who swore to “pacify” the isles is still lost in it. His dispatches arrive late. They make no sense. The Abbess’s dispatches arrive early. They make too much sense. The Confessor walks into the Great Fog. She rings her bell. The fog parts. She walks back. She does not tell anyone where she went.

(Blessing/Token/Right)

Well-blessing for a named ford crossing; moot token with eight-knotted cord skips local queues.

Diamonds — Rewards/Leverage

2. Well-Blessing — Named ford crosses you safely, once; water remembers your need. The blessing is a ribbon. Tie it to your wrist. Do not tie a ninth knot. The Viterran sheriff’s horse refused to cross the blessed ford. He had to swim. The Abbess’s horse crossed. It drowned. The Confessor tied a gray thread to the ribbon. The thread remembers. The ford remembers.

3. Moot Token — Eight-knotted cord; skip any local queue or judgment. The cord is braided from horsehair and silence. Cut a knot to speak. The Viterran magistrate who tried to arrest a token-holder found his courtroom empty. The case was dismissed. The Inquisitor who tried to arrest one found his charges dismissed. By him. The Confessor’s token has nine knots. She has not cut any of them. She is waiting.

4. Harbor-Green — Painted mark exempts your boat from the next levy; tide as ally. The mark is a circle with an eighth cut. The missing slice is for the Host. The Viterran customs officer who tried to board a marked boat now gathers shells on the beach. The Everflame officer who tried to board it now preaches to the shells. The Confessor’s mark has a gray thread painted through the cut. The tide rises when she rings.

5. Hawthorn Pass — Immunity from a single local taboo (for one scene). The pass is a hawthorn twig. Carry it in your mouth. Do not chew. The Viterran inquisitor who tried to burn a pass-bearer found his pyre would not light. The Abbess tried to bless the twig. It prickled her. The Confessor tied a gray thread to the twig. The thread is wet. The twig is growing.

6. Bell-Right — Lawful ring at a fog-wick summons the watchers; law travels on sound. The bell has no clapper. You must ring it with your own breath. The Viterran constable who heard the bell now refuses to speak of it. His ears are scarred. The Abbess’s novice who heard it now speaks only in riddles. The Confessor rings this bell with her breath. The bell rings with her voice. The watchers come. They do not speak.

7. Coracle Share — Crew and oars pledged for one crossing; tide as a steed. The share is a hazel wand. Break it in half to claim your passage. The Viterran governor who tried to seize a coracle share found his hands would not close. The Abbess tried to buy the share. The wand turned to ash. The Confessor’s wand has a gray thread tied around it. The thread is damp. The tide knows her name.

8. Ogham Ruling — Monk’s reading settles a dispute in your favor; runes as law. The ruling is carved on a slate. The slate is damp. The runes may change by morning. The Viterran judge who ruled against an Ogham ruling now dreams in runes. He cannot read them. The Abbess’s judge ruled against it. The slate cracked his gavel. The Confessor’s slate has a ninth rune. It appears at dawn. It disappears by noon. No one has read it.

9. Unnumbered Right — Ignore the Ninth prohibition for one action (binds you to an answer later). The right is a silence. Use it, and the Green Host will ask for its name. The Viterran spy who used it now has no shadow. The Host has his name. The Abbess’s spy who used it now has no reflection. The Flame has his soul. The Confessor used it once. She rang her bell. The Host did not ask. The bell answered for her.

10. Salt-Cure License — Process scarce fish despite ration edicts; preservation as power. The license is signed with a thumbprint. The thumb is not yours. The Viterran ration officer who refused a licensed boat now has no appetite. He eats only ash. The Abbess’s officer who refused it now eats only salt. He is very thirsty. The Confessor’s license is signed with a gray thread. The thread is damp. The fish are preserved. The license is warm.

11. Bride-Charter — Two feuding houses sheath knives for a season; peace in marriage. The charter is written on a wedding veil. The bloodstains are from the first cut of peace. The Viterran crown’s peace commissioners have tried to copy the charter. Their copies burn. The Abbess tried to consecrate it. The veil caught fire. The Confessor tied a gray thread to the veil. The veil did not burn. The peace held.

12. Private Moot — With Matron and King; whispers become policy. The moot is held in a fog hollow. What is spoken there is never written. The Viterran governor’s spy who tried to listen now speaks only in fog. He is very popular with the locals. The Abbess’s spy who tried to listen now speaks only in confessions. He is very popular with the Inquisitors. The Confessor rings her bell at the moot’s close. The fog listens. It does not repeat.

13. Whale-Escort — Eight-oar guards across the Dolmis reach; strength in numbers. The crew carries your name on a scrap of vellum. If the paper gets wet, you are alone. The Viterran warship that tried to intercept a whale-escorted vessel now has no name. The Everflame ship that tried to intercept it now has no crew. The Confessor’s escort has a gray thread instead of a name. The thread is wet. The crew still knows her.

14. Green Favor — One uncanny exception to custom, spoken beneath hawthorn. The favor is a dream. When you wake, the hawthorn will remember—even if you don’t. The Viterran governor who asked for a Green Favor now believes he is a king. The actual king is amused. The Abbess who asked for a Green Favor now believes she is a saint. The Host is amused. The Confessor asked for a Green Favor. She dreamed of a gray thread. She woke with it tied around her wrist. She has not untied 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 (blessings/tokens/rights) that change position rather than call for a roll.

• The “No Ninth” custom: whenever a 9 appears in your seed, add an omission to the scene (a missing step, an unsaid name, an unseen guest). If the 9 is a Diamond, you may break the taboo once—but someone will come to collect later.

• If any A appears, echo green and count motifs—hawthorn that whispers, bells that miscount, promises that take the long way home. If the A is a Heart, a Confessor may appear. If the A is a Spade, a bell-shrine. If the A is a Club, the Green Host rides. If the A is a Diamond, the Gray Liturgy offers a thread.

Additional Features (Cultural Mechanics)

• The Silent Count: Players and GMs are encouraged to omit a detail (a name, a step, a tally) when the Ninth appears, echoing Theona’s taboo. This is how the islanders evade Viterran law: they simply do not say what the law requires. The law cannot count what is not spoken. Mechanical Effect: If a player speaks the ninth name/step/item in a scene, tick the Green Host Rising timer by 1. If they omit it successfully, gain 1 Boon. If they tie a gray thread instead of speaking, gain 2 Boons and do not tick the timer.

• Green Host’s Omen: Any dream sequence or omen may be framed as the ride of the Green Host—hoofbeats across the sky, wind through the moors, sea spray tasting of salt and blood. The Viterran garrison has learned to ignore the omens. The garrison is understrength. The Everflame Inquisitors document them as evidence of demonic activity. The Gray Liturgy interprets them as messages from the dead.

• Bride-Peace Feasts: Weddings, truces, and funerals blur; sharing a feast can end a feud for a season—or doom a guest if the ninth cup is poured. The Viterran crown has outlawed these feasts. The feasts continue. The crown’s officers attend. They never pour the ninth cup. The Abbess sends clerics to bless the cups. The cups break. The Confessor pours the ninth cup into a cracked bell. The bell rings. The feast is blessed.

• The Gray Thread: A character may tie a gray thread around their wrist as a symbol of a burden carried or a promise to a Confessor. The thread cannot be cut by the same hand that tied it. Once per session, the wearer may transfer a Condition caused by guilt, fear, or despair to a willing Confessor NPC, clearing the Condition. The Confessor gains 1 Fatigue. The thread must be burned at a bell-shrine within a week, or the Condition returns.

• The Viterran Plantation Timer [8]: Tracks the Viterran crown’s efforts to colonize the isles. Advances when the party carries the king’s salt (guides a patrol, enforces a writ, speaks against a moot) or when a Viterran sheriff successfully imposes common law. Retreats when the party supports a moot, hides a fugitive, or exposes a crown official’s corruption. When full, a new plantation is declared: a Viterran town is built, lands are confiscated, and a new sheriff is appointed. The Green Host’s shadow grows. The Confessor’s bell rings. The dead watch.

• The Everflame Orthodoxy Timer [6]: Tracks the Abbess of Whiterick’s influence. Advances when the party aids the Inquisition, purges “heresy,” or accepts Everflame gold. Retreats when the party exposes Everflame manipulation, protects native rites, or turns Everflame allies against the Abbess. When full, the Inquisition establishes a permanent tribunal; native rites become illegal under penalty of burning. The Gray Liturgy goes underground. The bells fall silent.

• Brehon Law vs. Common Law: In any legal dispute, the party may choose to invoke Brehon law (custom, precedent, witness) or Viterran common law (statute, seal, written evidence). Brehon law grants +1 die if the party can produce a respected elder or a witnessed oral history; Viterran law grants +1 die if the party has a writ or a seal. Choosing one over the other shifts the Viterran Plantation timer by 1 segment toward or away from the crown. Choosing to ignore both (relying on Taboo) shifts the Green Host timer. Choosing to invoke the Gray Liturgy (a gray thread and a witnessed silence) shifts none—but the Confessor will remember.

Lore Echoes (Cross-Expansion Hooks)

• Saint Brı́d of the Unquenched Well (Syncretic): A local saint venerated by both the Temple of Light and the old well-keepers. Her shrine is a well hung with red ribbons; pilgrims who tie an eighth knot and leave a silver coin may ask one question of the Green Host—but the answer comes in a dream, and the dream always takes a memory. The Viterran bishop has declared her a heretic three times. Each time, the declaration was found burned. The well still flows. The Abbess claims the well is a portal. She is right. The Confessor claims the well is a bell. She rings it. The water answers.

• Saint Colmán of the Eighth Bell (Oath of Mercy and Grace): A missionary who tried to convert the isles by ringing a ninth bell. The Green Host took his tongue, and he spent the rest of his life speaking in eights. His hospice still stands near the Fog-Wick Tower; it heals the fog-sick, but every patient leaves unable to count past eight. The Viterran crown has tried to close the hospice. The hospice’s patients now include the governor’s son. The Abbess has tried to recruit him. He speaks only in eights. The Confessor rings a bell for him at dawn. He counts to eight. He stops. He is healing.

• The Dullahan (The Headless Horseman): A fae omen that rides when a Viterran sheriff is about to die. It carries its own head under its arm, and it calls the sheriff’s name. Those who hear it are dead before dawn. The current sheriff has heard it three times. He is still alive. He is very afraid. The Abbess has heard it once. She laughed. The head did not laugh. The Confessor heard it once. She rang her bell. The head turned. It did not speak.

• The Banshee (Bean Sidhe): A spirit who keens when a pure-blooded Theona chieftain dies. The Viterran crown has tried to suppress her songs as “noise pollution.” The keening continues. The chieftains die. The crown’s record-keepers have learned to stop at eight. The Abbess’s record-keepers stop at seven. They fear the eighth. The Tréadaı́ sings the keening with her. The chieftain dies well. The banshee is grateful.

• The Morrigan (The Phantom Queen): A war goddess who appears as a crow before battle. She does not choose sides. She chooses the dead. The Viterran soldiers who see a crow before a skirmish often desert. The local fighters see a crow and sharpen their blades. The Morrigan is amused. The Abbess’s soldiers see a crow and pray. The crow eats their prayers. The Confessor sees a crow and rings her bell. The crow listens. It does not choose. It waits.

• The Ninth: In any Theona scene, the ninth person to speak in a room draws the Green Host’s attention. The wise hold their tongues until someone else breaks the count. Those who speak ninth are said to see a pale rider on the horizon the next night—and the rider is always one name closer. The Viterran governor who spoke ninth now has a portrait of himself that ages instead of him. He has not looked at it in a year. The Abbess who spoke ninth now has a portrait that does not age. She looks at it every day. The Confessor who spoke ninth rang her bell. The rider passed. She does not have a portrait.

Theona Superstitions (burn for +1 die once)

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

• Knot the Eighth: Tie a single knot in a ribbon before a moot. Cancel Spoken Geas or take –1 die on your next oath (your choice).

• Name to the Well: Whisper a dead enemy’s name into Saint’s Well. Gain +1 Effect against his kin for the scene, but the Matron will remember your name. The Abbess will also remember.

• Thread to the Confessor: Tie a gray thread around your wrist before a dangerous journey. Once, when you would take a Condition from fear or despair, you may transfer it to a Confessor. The Confessor will carry it. The thread will turn black. Burn it at a bell-shrine.

In Theona, power flows through ancient custom, sacred spaces, and the careful observance of taboo. The Three Greens maintain their independence through a web of moots, well-keepers, and geas-keepers who ensure the old laws are honored. The King and Matron rule by consensus and tradition, while the unseen Lady Beneath influences events through dreams and whispers. Against them stands the Viterran crown—a power of sheriffs, bishops, and undertakers who seek to replace Brehon law with common law, hawthorn with church stone, and the Green Host with the White Flame. And watching from Whiterick Abbey, the Everflame Abbess schemes to preserve power by pitting Viterra, the native factions, and raiders against each other.

In the mist, a quieter power waits. The Gray Liturgy does not scheme. It rings. It carries. It listens. Its Confessors hold the weight of the dead. Its Gray Walkers guide the dying across. Its Well-Walkers descend into the Ninth and return. It offers no gold, no land, no writs. It offers only a gray thread and a cracked bell. For those who have lost too much, that is enough.

For the GM: Patronage in Theona revolves around blessings, exemptions, and the delicate balance of keeping or breaking taboos. Rewards often take the form of tokens, rights, or divine favor that can be woven into greater standing. To emphasize the colonial conflict:

• Tie rewards to visible symbols (ribbons, tokens, blessings) that can be challenged, stolen, or voided by crown officials.

• Let the Viterran crown, the Green Host, and the Everflame Abbess grant conflicting protections—players must choose whose favor matters more, and whose curse is worse.

• Use the moots, wells, and causeways as arenas for social contests, where knowledge of Brehon law (and its deliberate omissions) determines success against Viterran common law and Everflame orthodoxy.

• The Viterran Plantation Timer and Everflame Orthodoxy Timer are visible campaign fronts. Players can accelerate or delay them, but once they fill, the isles change forever—new towns, new sheriffs, new taboos, new inquisitors.

• For parties drawn to the Gray Liturgy, add a third timer: The Unringing Bell [8]. Advances when the party breaks a taboo without offering a gray thread, ignores a deathbed confession, or fails to carry a burden. Retreats when the party ties a gray thread, rings a bell-shrine, or helps a Confessor. When full, the Gray Liturgy withdraws its protection. The Confessors will not ring for you. The dead will not listen.

In Theona, your word is your weave, and your weave determines whether you walk the green path or invite the Host—or the sheriff’s noose—or the Abbess’s brand—or the Confessor’s silence.

Thematic SB Spend Table

Minor Complications (1 SB)

• Exposure: Your actions draw unwanted attention from moot-keepers, well-guardians, Viterran sheriffs, or Everflame clerics.

• Noise: Sounds of your actions alert nearby coracle crews, ringfort sentries, crown patrols, or Inquisitor spies.

• Trace: Evidence of your passage marks your route for trackers, green neighbors, crown informers, or Host riders.

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

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

• Unsung Confession (Gray Liturgy): A Confessor cannot ring her bell. The weight must be carried until a witness volunteers.

Moderate Setbacks (2 SB)

• Alarm Raised: Wick-warden, moot official, Viterran bailiff, or Everflame novice becomes aware and begins responding.

• Position Lost: You lose advantageous ground/cover/stealth due to mist shift, taboo breach, a sheriff’s roadblock, or an Inquisitor’s ward.

• Foe Appears: A feuding house member, bone-judge, crown soldier, or Everflame penitent arrives on scene.

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

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

• The Ninth Knock: An Caillte knocks at a threshold. A door that was closed now rattles. The Gray Liturgy waits. The Green Host listens.

Serious Trouble (3 SB)

• Reinforcements: Additional coracle crews, green neighbors, moot enforcers, crown militia, or Everflame zealots arrive.

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

• Major Twist: The situation fundamentally changes—taboo broken/green host rides/feud declared/crown warrant issued/Inquisition summons.

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

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

• The Burdened Confessor: A Confessor collapses under the weight of unspoken sins. She cannot ring. She cannot speak. She can only wait for someone to carry her.

Major Turns (4+ SB)

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

• Authority Arrival: King, Matron, Lady Beneath, Viterran Governor, or Abbess of Whiterick intervenes.

• Scene Shift: The environment changes dramatically—fog rises/bells ring/causeway shifts/crown forces arrive/Abbess’s censer smokes.

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

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

• The Unringing Bell: The Gray Liturgy withdraws its protection. Confessors will not ring. The dead will not listen. The party is alone.

Region-Specific SB Options

• Theona (Silent Count): Steps disappear mid-climb, names vanish from lips, the ninth item in a list goes unmentioned.

• Theona (Green Host): Hoofbeats echo without a horse, mist takes familiar shapes, dreams predict the next action.

• Theona (Viterran Law): A writ is declared void, a sheriff’s seal cracks, a witness remembers the ninth name.

• Theona (Everflame Orthodoxy): A prayer is answered wrongly, a brand burns without fire, a confession is heard by the wrong ears.

• Theona (Gray Liturgy): A bell rings without a ringer, a gray thread tightens on a wrist, a Confessor’s shadow stretches toward the dead.

Pursuit Ladder (Near / Mid / Far)

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

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

• Weather the Host (Endurance + Spirit): On a hit in Green Host Rides, you pick who is named; on a miss, the GM does.

• Defy the Abbess (Spirit + Deception): On a hit, hide a taboo act from the Inquisition; on a miss, gain Marked for Purity.

• Ring the Bell (Spirit + Lore): On a hit in Gray Liturgy, transfer a Condition to a willing Confessor; on a miss, the Confessor cannot ring—the weight doubles.

Boss Seeds (three-phase foes)

• The Unsung Bell (forbidden note given will) — Phases: Hum in Mist → Echo Under Well-stone → Command of Fog. Cracks: bind its clapper with eight ribbons; let a rival speak the ninth and pay; drown the echo at the Sea-Cave Harp. Gray Liturgy variant: let a Confessor ring it once. The bell will shatter or sing. No one knows which.

• Bride-Thief of the Green Host (dream raider) — Phases: Invitation in Sleep → Procession Across Moor → Feast Without Ninth Cup. Cracks: cut the dream-veil with silver; sing satire at the Green Moot Hill; trade a Bride-Charter. Gray Liturgy variant: offer a gray thread instead of a bride. The Host may accept. The thread will be tied around the King in Green’s wrist. He will not cut it.

• The Sheriff’s Black Assize (Viterran enforcer) — Phases: Plantation Decree → Common Law Assize → The Ninth Hanging. Cracks: produce a witnessed Brehon judgment older than the crown’s claim; make the kin-whole with cattle, not counted coin; let the Green Host take his name. Gray Liturgy variant: tie a gray thread around the noose. The rope will not tighten. The sheriff will hang alone.

• The Abbess’s Golden Inquisition (Everflame purifier) — Phases: Doctrine of Silence → Trial by Censer → Brand of Orthodoxy. Cracks: expose her pact with raiders; turn her own clerics against her with truth; let the Green Host ride during the trial. Gray Liturgy variant: ring a Confessor’s bell in the cathedral. The Abbess will hear. She will not confess. The bell will ring anyway.

• The Missing Step (living omission) — Phases: Vanished Witness → Unread Clause → Unwalkable Bridge. Cracks: invite a Taboo-Witness to count aloud; spill nine drops into Saint’s Well but name only eight; let the Lady Beneath keep a memory. Gray Liturgy variant: step where the step is missing. You will fall. You will land on a gray thread. The Confessor will pull you back. You will not remember where you fell.

Zakov

Salt & Serpent.

The tide here keeps better ledgers than any scribe, and the reefs remember every secret whispered above their depths. Power flows like the currents—those who understand them rule the waves.

I am a Dock-Rat. My tattoo is of the Sunken Quarter at low tide. The buildings are upside down.

The pirate-city of the Dolmis coast isn’t just a den of thieves—it’s a corporation with a flag, and oh, how the Salt Prince loves playing king while the Syndicate Silent pulls the strings. Here, every manifest is a lie, every harbor a doorstep to a dozen conspiracies, and every fog-light a lure or a warning. The city breathes with the sea: at low tide, secrets exposed; at flood, the drowned walk the Sunken Quarter and knock on doors that should be locked.

The Salt Prince’s crown floats. The Syndicate’s ledger is written in disappearing ink. The Kraken’s Tongue lives in a bell tower that only exists at high tide. None of this is metaphor. All of it is true. All of it wants something from you.

Never take a coin that tastes of brine. The Serpent’s Mark is not a blessing. It is a debt that drowns.

— Ravel, Dock-Rat, who has never slept above the high-water mark

What do people eat for breakfast? Salted fish and hard cheese—the fish is dried on the docks, the cheese is smuggled from the mainland. The cheese is always stale. The fish is always fresh. The contradiction is never explained.

What does a child learn before they can walk? To read the tide tables. Zakov children are taught the schedule of the sea before they learn their letters. A child who cannot read the tide is a child who will be caught by the flood. The flood is not water. The flood is the Syndicate. The Syndicate collects debts at high tide.

What is the first thing you notice about a stranger? Their coin-pouch. Zakov runs on silver—good silver, bad silver, silver that has been under the sea. A stranger whose pouch clinks with fresh-minted coin is a merchant. A stranger whose pouch is full of salt-crusted bits is a pirate. A stranger whose pouch is empty is a liar. Liars do not last long in Zakov. The sea takes them.

What is the most common crime? Piracy—but piracy is not a crime, it is a profession. The Syndicate licenses privateers. The privateers pay a tithe. The tithe funds the harbor. The harbor protects the ships. The ships are protected from pirates. The pirates are the Syndicate. The cycle is beautiful.

What does no one talk about but everyone knows? The Salt Prince is not a person. The title is held by a ring—a band of black coral that has been passed from captain to captain for three centuries. The ring is cursed. The ring’s wearer cannot sleep. The ring’s wearer cannot die. The ring’s wearer cannot leave Zakov. The current Prince has worn the ring for forty years. He has not slept in forty years. He has not smiled in forty years. He has not left the palace in forty years.

Where do people go when they die? To the Sunken Quarter—the drowned district that lies beneath the harbor. The dead are weighted with chains and dropped into the canals. The canals empty into the sea. The sea returns the bodies at low tide. The bodies are collected by the Syndicate. The Syndicate sells them to the Salt-Prince’s collectors. The collectors use them for—no one asks. No one wants to know.

How do you apologize for a serious wrong? You pay the Salt Tithe—a silver coin for every year of the wronged party’s life. The coin must be a salt coin—one that has been under the sea for a full tide cycle. The coin is thrown into the harbor. If it sinks, you are forgiven. If it floats, you are not. If it floats back to shore, you are cursed. The curse is the Serpent’s Mark. The Mark is a debt that drowns.

What is the most important festival? The Rising of the Tides (summer solstice). The harbor fills with luminescent algae. The algae glows green. The green is called ”the Kraken’s Eye.“ The Kraken is said to rise on this night. The Kraken has not risen in living memory. The Kraken is patient. The Kraken is waiting.

What is the secret that could destroy a powerful person? The Pirate Queen is a spy. She was planted by the Kahfagian Admiralty forty years ago. Her mission was to destabilize the Syndicate. She has become the Syndicate. The Admiralty does not know. The Admiralty still sends her orders. She burns them. The ashes are mixed with her tea.

Zakov — “Salt & Serpent”

Key Demographics: Humans Capital City: Zakov (the city has no other name)

Entanglements

To the West:

Thepyrgos – The chain-towers and the Synod’s seal police the straits; the Reaping’s crystal hums under the keel. A Zakov corsair is a pirate; a Thepyrgos privateer is a legal pirate.

To the North:

Valewood (Thin Coast) – Star-road shards and mist drift down the coast; the Gray Lady’s agents watch the woods. The Reaping’s influence does not cross the treeline.

To the South:

Theona – The Green Host does not ride the waves, but the Ninth Taboo is whispered in the coves. The Zakov smugglers know which coves avoid the Host’s riders.

To the East:

Aelinnel – The gnomish tide-traders bring copper and counting-songs; the Reaping does not trust the fae. The gnomish courts have a standing offer on Astroegro artifacts.

Quick Reference

Tagline: The tide keeps a better tally than any scribe. The reef remembers every secret.

Salt Prince (Elite): “The tide here keeps better tallies than any scribe, and the reefs remember every secret whispered above their depths. Power flows like the currents – those who understand them rule the waves. The Astroegro learned that. They are at the bottom now. The Kahfagians think they are different. They are not. The sea does not care about flags. It only cares about weight.”

Sela, runner on Zakov’s third quay (Commoner): “Third quay. Ask for Sela, not Little Sela; that is my aunt and she charges more. Keep your left boot dry if you can. Bad luck to board with two wet feet. The Salt Prince’s men are counting cargo at the east steps, which means the west steps cost extra today. The Gray Lady asked me which boats leave without lanterns. I gave her three names. Two were boats. You want the third, walk faster.”

Genre / Mood: Lovecraftian dread meets pirate swagger; eldritch tide-horror, maritime noir, pressure as a living force.

Starting Location: A smuggler’s gate built into the seawall, its iron mouth crusted with barnacles and secrets. The gatekeeper is a one-eyed woman who accepts payment in stories. Behind her, the Dregs Quarter stretches on stilts into the harbor, and the Salt Prince’s flagship, the Red Wake, rides at anchor off the Iron Pier. “The levy rises tonight,” she says, spitting into the water. “Every ship pays, or every ship burns. You look like the burning type. Good. The Prince needs a reminder that the tide turns for everyone. And keep your eyes off the water at low tide. The Reaping doesn’t like being watched. The Gray Lady has been asking about the Reaping. She’s not the only one. The Oligarchs want the same thing. They’re not allies. They’re competition. You’d do well to remember which side you’re on.”

Zakov is the pirate-city of the Dolmis coast, built on the drowned bones of an Astroegro port city that sank beneath the waves when that ancient empire fell. The old stone ruins — shattered columns, flooded plazas, sealed vaults — lie only a few fathoms down, and at low tide you can see their roofs breaking the surface like the spines of dead leviathans. The city’s streets are built on the rubble, its piers driven into the wreckage, and its deepest cellars open into sunken chambers where the water is warm and still. The Astroegro are gone, but their secrets remain: crystalline shards that hum with a terrible patience, sealed doors that weep brine, and the slow, creeping corruption that the locals call the Reaping.

Zakov’s streets are piers, its courts are taverns, and its rulers are whoever the Syndicates fear most this season. The Salt Prince claims the throne of driftwood and extortion, but the real power ebbs and flows with the tide — and the tide remembers everything. Here, every manifest is a lie, every harbor a doorstep to a dozen conspiracies, and every fog-light a lure or a warning. The city breathes with the sea: at low tide, secrets exposed; at flood, the drowned walk the Sunken Quarter and knock on doors that should be locked. Zakov is not a place you visit. It is a place you survive — or rule.

Above the water, three powers circle. Naval Intelligence watches from the Ember, a Kahfagian cutter permanently anchored in the smuggler’s gate, waiting for the Syndicates to make a mistake. Patron Alaric funds the Oligarchs’ artifact hunts from a counting-house in the Crimson Docks, a man whose glass eye records everything it sees. And the Salt-Bitten, a cult that worships the Reaping’s hunger, grows in the sewers and the sunken cellars, fed by the Ordo Artificum’s scholars and the Oligarchs’ greed.

Beneath it all, the Reaping. Centuries ago, the first Salt Prince — then a common adventurer — dove into a submerged Astroegro vault off the coast. What he found there no one knows for certain. Some say it was a living crystal, a fragment of a god that fell into the sea. Others whisper it is the father of Khemesh, the first hunger. The oldest tales call it simply the Reaping: a hunger that does not kill, but harvests. The Reaping seeps into Zakov like groundwater, corrupting slowly, tainting every soul who stays too long. Dreams curdle into obsession. Generosity rots into expectation. The city’s famous “everyone owes everyone” is not a culture; it is a symptom. The Salt Prince keeps the Reaping’s source sealed beneath his palace, but the seal is cracking, and the crystal grows.

What you notice first: The smell of brine and tar. The constant slap of water against stone. The way every tavern has a door that leads to a different dock — and every dock has a name that changes with the tide. The faint, harmonic hum that comes from the deep, like a bell that never stops ringing. And the Gray Lady’s mast, visible from every pier in the harbor, her steel hull dark against the salt-crusted wood.

The one rule that kills newcomers: Never take a coin that tastes of brine. The Serpent’s Mark is not a blessing. It is a weight that drowns. And never look into a still pool at low tide. The Reaping looks back. The Gray Lady’s agents look too.

Regional Mood: Salt, Serpent, and the Crystalline Deep

Here, the sea is not a border — it is a landlord. Zakov rose from the wreckage of a sunken Astroegro port, and every stone is a salvage claim. The Salt Prince rules from a throne of driftwood and extortion, but the real lords are the Syndicate factors who own the docks, the eel-cults that whisper from the sewers (descended from Astroegro cultists who worshipped the deep), and the fae courts that launder their influence through tide-bargains. Ships arrive with goods no customs post will name, and depart with cargoes no manifest will show. The city’s law is the Tide Timer : low water for killing, flood water for trading, slack for negotiation. Break the rhythm, and the city will break you.

Above the tide, a quieter war is fought. The Kahfagian Admiralty has known about Zakov’s secrets for decades, and the Ordo Artificum, its secretive arcane division, has confirmed the Reaping’s nature as a failed Astroegro containment system. Naval Intelligence, operating through deniable agents and cutouts, moves to contain the threat. The Oligarchs, funded by Patron Alaric, hunt the Astroegro artifacts that could control the Reaping — or weaponize it. They fund the Syndicates, the Salt-Bitten, and even Naval Intelligence itself, playing every side to ensure they profit from the chaos. The agents of the Gray Lady and the Oligarchs’ factors watch each other across the tavern tables of Zakov, trading secrets and bullets.

The Reaping is not a myth. It is a presence. It manifests as a crystalline growth that spreads through the submerged ruins, leaching color from stone and warmth from water. Those who stay in Zakov too long begin to dream of drowning; their shadows grow sharp and angular; their bargains feel heavier. The Reaping does not demand worship. It demands attention. And it has been waiting for centuries. The Ordo Artificum’s scholars believe they can control it. The Salt-Bitten believe they can feed it. They are both wrong.

The Reaping — A Campaign Timer

The Reaping is not a monster to be fought. It is a pressure, a corruption, a slow unmaking of the soul. Track the party’s entanglement with it using a Reaping’s Corrosion timer [8]. Tick the timer when:

• A character accepts a bargain from the Salt Prince or a Syndicate factor.

• A character uses a Serpent’s Mark (see Diamonds).

• A character fails a Spirit + Endurance test while in Zakov (drowning dreams, crystalline whispers).

• The party lingers in the Sunken Quarter or the Serpent’s Spine for more than a scene.

• The party handles an Astroegro artifact without protective measures.

• The party accepts aid from Naval Intelligence, the Oligarchs, or the Salt-Bitten.

At 4 segments: the character gains the Crystalline Whisper condition (you hear the Reaping’s voice in quiet moments; –1 die to resist fear). Their shadow begins to shimmer faintly. At 8 segments: the character becomes Harvested. Their shadow detaches and walks into the sea, and they owe the Reaping a name (a true name of someone they love, or their own). They may still act, but they are marked. The GM may spend 2 SB to have a Collector — a crystalline spirit in the shape of a drowned sailor — appear and demand payment. To clear the timer, the party must:

• Offer the Reaping something it values more than a soul: a memory of a crime no one witnessed, a true name from the Astroegro era (found in the sunken vaults), or a shard of its own prison (a heist into the Salt Prince’s vault).

• Perform a deep-dive ritual at the Serpent’s Spine, cutting a crystalline growth from the reef and replacing it with a lock of hair from a willing volunteer.

• Deliver an Astroegro artifact to the Ordo Artificum for “containment” — though this rarely ends well for the artifact.

Geographic Integration

Zakov sits at the cultural and maritime crossroads of the eastern Dolmis. To the north, the Valewood’s mist-shrouded coasts send driftwood and nightmares down the current; the Reaping’s crystalline hum is said to be an echo of the forest’s deepest hungers. To the south, the Theona isles regard Zakov with wary tolerance — the Ninth Taboo keeps the Green Host at bay, but Zakov’s smugglers know which coves avoid the Host’s riders. Across the Dolmis to the east, the gnomish Aelinnel of Aevrossa trade fine copper and stranger goods through Zakov’s black market, their counting-songs an eerie counterpoint to the Reaping’s harmonic pulse. The halfling Aelaerem of Amedell keep a wary distance, their red-thread wards flickering when the crystal grows strong.

The city’s lifeblood is the narrow sea-lanes between the Dolmis and the Amaranthine. Thepyrgos controls the straits with its chain-towers and bell-warning systems, while Kahfagian patrols enforce tariffs on the open water. Zakov’s pirates and smugglers must bribe, bluff, or blast past both to reach the rich southern waters. The Linns of the northern fjords sometimes portage their longships south from the Aberderrin into the Dolmis, trading amber and walrus ivory for Zakov’s more questionable cargoes — and leaving behind storm-oaths that the local Syndicates are careful not to break. The Kahfagian presence is the newest and most dangerous: Naval Intelligence’s Ember is a permanent fixture, and the Oligarchs’ factors are everywhere. The Syndicates have learned to tread carefully around the Gray Lady and her agents.

Prominent NPCs of Zakov

Names of Zakov

Inspired by the Black Sea and Odessa: Slavic, Turkic, and Greek inflections, with nicknames that stick like barnacles. Some families carry Astroegro loanwords as secret names, whispered only at the lowest tide.

(Harbor/Bolt-hole/Black Market)

Salt-cracked wharf where tide brings back what law forgets; Bone-yard beach with wrecks and corpses in kelp; Smuggler’s Gate behind the Fish Market; the Gray Lady’s berth in the hidden cove; the Oligarch’s auction barge in the Shallows.

Spades — Places

2. Salt Wharf — Cracked and crumbling; the tide brings back what law forgets. ‘[TIDE]‘ The wharf has a memory. It remembers every cargo that passed — and every captain that didn’t. The stones are warm with crystal residue. The Gray Lady’s agents watch from the roof of the chandlery. They are always watching.

3. Bone-Yard Beach — Wrecks and corpses tangled in kelp and rope. ‘[DEATH]‘ The bones are from three empires — Utaran, Astroegro, and older. They shift at high tide to form new constellations. The oldest bones are not bone; they are crystal. The Reaping’s first harvest. The Oligarchs pay well for Astroegro bones. They do not ask what they are for.

4. Smuggler’s Gate — An alley behind the Fish Market; always unlocked, always watched. ‘[STEALTH]‘ The lock is a riddle. The answer changes with the moon. The gatekeeper’s eyes are the color of the deep. Her left eye is a polished crystal shard. She reports to the Syndicates. She reports to Naval Intelligence. She reports to the Oligarchs. She reports to no one.

5. The Shallows — A reef-ridden cut only locals dare; navigation as survival. ‘[TRAVEL]‘ The reef has a name: the Serpent’s Spine. It grows longer each year. At night, it sings — a harmonic hum that draws ships onto the crystal teeth. The Gray Lady’s cutter knows the passages. The Oligarchs have bribed the reef-captains. The reef does not accept bribes.

6. Dregs Quarter — Shanties on stilts; boats tied to doorframes like pets. ‘[COMMUNITY]‘ The stilts are whale ribs. The quarter rises and falls with the tide — and the mood. Some doorframes have no doors. Those houses are empty. The residents are still inside. They are waiting for the Reaping to finish. The Salt-Bitten recruit here. They offer freedom. They offer crystals.

7. Iron Pier — Gangplank to the Red Wake, the corsair flagship; power as a vessel. ‘[AUTHORITY]‘ The ship was a slaver once. It still smells of chains and salt. The Salt Prince’s cabin has a locked hatch. No one asks what is below. The hatch is warm. It hums. Commodore Voss has asked. The Prince did not answer.

8. Crow’s Roost — A tavern built into the hull of a beached galleon; the past as the present. ‘[SOCIAL]‘ The hull was a prize from a war that ended forty years ago. The crew who took it still drink there. They have not aged. They do not speak of the Reaping. Their reflections in the beer are crystalline. They do not speak of the Gray Lady either. She has not come in. She has not needed to.

9. Black Bazaar — Tents under tarps; goods that scream if you listen. ‘[TRADE]‘ The scream is not pain. It is a warning. The most expensive stall sells “clean” souls — memories scrubbed of crystal contamination. No one knows what that means. The stall owner has no shadow. The Oligarchs own the stall. They sell clean souls and buy dirty ones.

10. Salt Maze — Marsh paths only the lost know; confusion as protection. ‘[MYSTERY]‘ The maze was a graveyard. The dead rearranged the hedges. The center is a stone basin filled with water that reflects a sky you have never seen. The water is warm. It tastes of crystal and old tears. The Salt-Bitten gather here at the dark moon. They do not speak. They do not need to.

11. Sunken Quarter — Half the city is underwater at high tide; wealth as depth. ‘[DEATH]‘ ‘[STEALTH]‘ The flooded houses have air pockets. People still live there — damply. They whisper about a door at the lowest tide, a door that leads to the vault where the first Salt Prince made his bargain. The door is warm. It hums. The Gray Lady has found the door. She has not opened it. The Oligarchs have found the door. They are trying to open it. The Salt-Bitten guard it.

12. Crimson Docks — Contracts signed in blood; commerce as violence. ‘[WEIGHT]‘ ‘[AUTHORITY]‘ The blood is not always the signatory’s. The docks do not care. The inkwells are filled from a common source — a crystalline spring that weeps from the reef. No one knows where the source is. The ink writes by itself. Patron Alaric owns the ink trade. He sells to both sides.

13. Anchorhead — A floating fortress of the Pirate Syndicate; law as an anchor. ‘[AUTHORITY]‘ The fortress is built from the hulls of seized ships. You can hear the captains weeping in the timbers. The lowest deck is sealed. The seal is warm. It is made of crystal. The Pirate Queen keeps the Oligarchs at bay here. She keeps Naval Intelligence at bay too. She keeps everyone at bay. She is losing.

14. Serpent’s Spine — A reef pass to the city’s secret heart; danger as a gateway. ‘[MAGIC]‘ ‘[LEGEND]‘ The pass is a submerged arch, carved with Astroegro glyphs that glow in the dark. Swim through, and the city shows you its true face — once. The true face is a wound. The wound is the Reaping. The arch is warm. It hums. The Ordo Artificum has mapped the arch. They have not mapped what lies beneath.

(Syndicate/Corsair/Fence)

Dock-rat pickpocket with a map tattoo and no fear; a fence dealing in stolen names and secondhand loyalties; an Adjutant agent watching from the rigging of a moored ship; an Oligarch factor counting a list of debts.

Hearts — People & Factions

2. Dock-Rat — Pickpocket with a map tattoo and no fear; the street as education. ‘[STEALTH]‘ His tattoo is of the Sunken Quarter at low tide. The buildings are upside down. The tattoo moves when he sleeps. The ink is mixed with crystal dust. He sells information to the Gray Lady. He sells information to the Oligarchs. He sells information to everyone.

3. Fence — Deals in stolen names and secondhand loyalties; trust as currency. ‘[SOCIAL]‘ ‘[WEIGHT]‘ Her tally is written in disappearing ink. She is the only one who knows the antidote. The antidote is a drop of Reaping-crystal brine. She keeps it under her tongue. Her tongue is forked. She owes Patron Alaric a debt. She does not remember what for.

4. Tavern-Keeper — Remembers every face — and sells the list; hospitality as a trap. ‘[SOCIAL]‘ His memory is a curse from a fae court. He cannot forget — and he cannot stop talking. He is the only source of the Reaping’s true name. He does not know he knows it. It is written on his skin in crystal. The Gray Lady visits him every week. She is the only one he does not sell to.

5. Corsair Lieutenant — A letter of marque signed in blood; authority as paper. ‘[AUTHORITY]‘ The letter is stained with a thumbprint. The thumb is still attached to the signatory. He has not aged in ten years. His blood is crystalline. He sails for the Syndicate. He sails for the Oligarchs. He sails for whoever pays. He has a gray thread tied around his wrist. He does not remember tying it.

6. Dock-Master — “Loses” ships that owe the Syndicate; bureaucracy as a weapon. ‘[AUTHORITY]‘ ‘[WEIGHT]‘ Her tally has a secret page. The page is a map of debtor’s bones. The bones are still warm. They hum at low tide. She has sold the map to the Gray Lady once. She has sold it to the Oligarchs twice. The map has changed. She does not know why.

7. Smuggler Captain — A false manifest and a quicker blade; honesty as a liability. ‘[STEALTH]‘ ‘[COMBAT]‘ She names her boats after dead lovers. The current boat is named “Mistake.” The previous boat, “Regret,” was taken by the Reaping. She does not speak of it. The boat’s hull is crusted with crystal. She carries cargo for the Syndicate. She carries cargo for Naval Intelligence. She carries cargo for the Oligarchs. She does not ask what it is.

8. Poison-Tongue — Trades secrets like coin; words as blades. ‘[SOCIAL]‘ ‘[MAGIC]‘ His tongue is forked — not by birth, but by a curse. He can speak two truths at once. The Reaping speaks through him in his sleep. He no longer sleeps. His dreams are harvested. He works for Patron Alaric. He does not know what he is carrying.

9. Exiled Admiral — Runs a black-market shipyard; rank as a resource. ‘[AUTHORITY]‘ Her flag is a torn imperial pennant. She keeps it to remind herself why she left. The real reason is a crystalline shard she found in a ship’s hold. She keeps it in a lead box. The box is warm. It whispers her name. She sells ships to the Syndicate. She sells ships to Naval Intelligence. She sells ships to anyone who pays.

10. Pirate Queen — Rules the Shallows with charm and cutlass; beauty as power. ‘[AUTHORITY]‘ ‘[SOCIAL]‘ Her cutlass was her grandmother’s. The grandmother was also a queen. The grandmother was also the first person to see the Reaping and refuse it. The refusal cost her her shadow. She still has hers. It is the only thing she fears losing. She is a Kahfagian agent. She does not know it. Commodore Voss knows. She has not told her.

11. Silent Syndicate — No names, just favors and faces; anonymity as strength. ‘[MYSTERY]‘ Their messenger is a child with no tongue. She writes in the air with smoke. The smoke smells of crystal and salt. The words appear on your skin. They fade after an hour. The Reaping does not forget. The Gray Lady has tried to recruit the child twice. The child has refused.

12. Kraken’s Tongue — An oracle who speaks in riddles and tides; the future as a mystery. ‘[MAGIC]‘ ‘[DEATH]‘ She lives in a bell tower that only exists at high tide. The bell does not ring. The bell is a fragment of the Reaping’s prison. She tends it with her own blood. Her blood is crystalline. It glows in the dark. She has told Commodore Voss the fate of her mission. Voss has not listened.

13. Salt Prince — The nominal ruler; real power in the shadows; a crown as a mask. ‘[AUTHORITY]‘ His crown is a circlet of driftwood. He has never taken it off. Beneath it, his scalp is cracked like dry earth. Something crystalline moves in the cracks. It is the Reaping. It is patient. He meets with Patron Alaric every full moon. He does not know what they discuss.

14. Drowned Admiral — A legend says he still gives orders from the deep; death as command. ‘[DEATH]‘ ‘[LEGEND]‘ His orders arrive in bottles. The bottles are corked with finger bones. The ink is crystalline. It glows in the dark. The orders are always the same: “Feed the reef.” The Ordo Artificum believes he is real. They are trying to contact him. The Salt-Bitten believe he is the Reaping’s voice. They are listening.

(Betrayal/Storm/Syndicate Feud)

The tide turns early — your ship is now ashore on the wrong side; a rival syndicate burns a warehouse with your goods inside; an Adjutant agent is found dead in the shallows; the Oligarchs outbid you for an artifact.

Clubs — Complications/Threats

2. Tide Shift — Turns early; your ship is now ashore on the wrong side. ‘[TIDE]‘ ‘[TRAVEL]‘ The tide stole a day. Your alibi is now a lie. The water has a new taste. It tastes of crystal. The reef is closer than it should be. The Gray Lady’s cutter is already there.

3. Warehouse Fire — A rival syndicate burns it; your goods are inside. ‘[DISASTER]‘ ‘[WEIGHT]‘ The fire is green. It burns paper and wood — and secrets. The smoke leaves a crystalline residue on the skin. The residue hums. The Oligarchs’ factors were seen leaving the scene. Naval Intelligence was seen arriving.

4. Cursed Cargo — Something in the hold is watching; cargo as a curse. ‘[DEATH]‘ ‘[MAGIC]‘ The cargo is a mirror. The reflection is not yours. The reflection has too many teeth. The frame is carved with Astroegro glyphs. They are instructions. You cannot read them. The Ordo Artificum will pay handsomely for it. They will pay in crystal.

5. Storm Warning — Ships flee, prices soar, lawmen vanish. ‘[WEATHER]‘ ‘[FEAR]‘ The storm has a name. It is the name of a captain who swore revenge. The rain tastes of brine and old regrets. The lightning is green. It strikes the reef. The reef sings. The Gray Lady sails into the storm. She always comes back.

6. Double-Cross — You are holding a fake shipment and real enemies. ‘[SOCIAL]‘ ‘[TRAP]‘ The fake shipment is real. The real shipment is a trap. The trap is a shard of the Reaping. It whispers. It knows your bargains. It offers to clear them — for a price. The Oligarchs planned the double-cross. Naval Intelligence knew. They did not warn you.

7. Prince’s Levy — Every ship pays tithe or gets sunk; tax as a threat. ‘[AUTHORITY]‘ ‘[WEIGHT]‘ The levy collector wears a mask. The mask is the face of a dead admiral. The admiral’s mouth moves. It asks for a name. The name must be written in blood on a crystal shard. The Salt Prince has been raising the levy. He is paying off a debt to Patron Alaric.

8. Plague Ship — Quarantine flags are ignored; sickness spreads. ‘[DEATH]‘ ‘[FEAR]‘ The plague is a cough that speaks the name of who infected you. The last name spoken is the Salt Prince’s. He does not cough. His throat is crystalline. The Ordo Artificum has quarantined the ship. They are studying it.

9. Blood Feud — Erupts between pirate crews; collateral damage mounts. ‘[COMBAT]‘ ‘[SOCIAL]‘ The feud began over a stolen duck. The duck is still alive. The duck is made of crystal. No one admits to having seen it. It quacks in a harmonic tone. The reef answers. Naval Intelligence is trying to stop the feud. The Oligarchs are funding both sides.

10. Kraken Rising — Reefs shift, ships vanish, sailors scream. ‘[DEATH]‘ ‘[MAGIC]‘ The kraken is not a monster. It is a bargain that has grown teeth. The teeth are crystalline. They are the Reaping’s first children. The kraken does not attack. It collects. The Salt-Bitten have been feeding it.

11. Voided Contract — Your protection now means nothing. ‘[WEIGHT]‘ ‘[AUTHORITY]‘ The contract was written on shark skin. It dissolved in salt water. The shark still swims. It remembers your name. Its eyes are crystal. The Oligarchs voided the contract. They have already sold your debt.

12. Syndicate Split — Zakov becomes a warzone overnight. ‘[AUTHORITY]‘ ‘[COMBAT]‘ The split was orchestrated by a third party. You are the third party. You do not remember agreeing. The Reaping remembers for you. Your signature is on the contract. It is written in crystal. The Gray Lady is watching. She is taking notes.

13. Naval Blockade — No ships in or out without a fight. ‘[AUTHORITY]‘ ‘[COMBAT]‘ The blockade is a fae illusion. The ships are real. The captains are hollow. Something else steers. Their eyes are crystal. Their orders come from the deep. The Gray Lady commanded the blockade. She is looking for something.

14. Tide Forgets — Half the city is cut off, drowning in secrets. ‘[DEATH]‘ ‘[MYSTERY]‘ The water is warm. The drowned are not dead — they are waiting. They are waiting for the Reaping to finish its work. Their mouths move. They are counting. The Salt-Bitten are already there. They are not counting. They are feeding.

(Pass/Contract/Stolen Goods)

A smuggler’s token to pass a checkpoint unseen; a forged manifest that makes your cargo “clean”; a weight-marker the Syndicate cannot refuse; an Adjutant’s seal for one safe passage; an Oligarch bounty for a recovered artifact.

Diamonds — Rewards/Leverage

2. Smuggler’s Token — Pass one checkpoint unseen; stealth as paper. ‘[STEALTH]‘ The token is a dried eel skin. Show it, and the guards will not see you — or will pretend not to. The eel was not dead when skinned. It still twitches. Its blood is crystalline. The Gray Lady’s agents recognize the token. They will not stop you. They will remember.

3. Forged Manifest — Your cargo is now “clean”; truth as forgery. ‘[TRADE]‘ ‘[DECEPTION]‘ The manifest is a leaf from a salt-cured book. The ink reads differently in moonlight. Under moonlight, it reads the true name of the Reaping. The Reaping does not like being named. The Oligarchs will pay for that name. They will pay very well.

4. Safe Berth — Bone-yard; no questions, no law; sanctuary as a wreck. ‘[TRAVEL]‘ The berth is a beached ship. Its captain still lives below decks — and does not age. He has been counting the same grain of sand for forty years. He will not tell you why. The sand is crystal. He is a retired Adjutant agent. He will not speak of his work.

5. Corsair’s Charter — Raid with impunity for one moon; violence as a license. ‘[AUTHORITY]‘ ‘[COMBAT]‘ The charter is a whip. Crack it, and the Syndicate will answer — or flog you. The whip’s handle is carved from a piece of the Reaping’s prison. It is warm. It whispers. It was a gift from Patron Alaric. He expects it to be used.

6. Prince’s Writ — Levies cannot touch you (yet); authority as a delay. ‘[AUTHORITY]‘ The writ is a feather. The Salt Prince’s signature is a claw mark. The feather came from a bird that drowned. It still tries to fly. Its eyes are crystal. The Gray Lady has a copy. She is waiting.

7. Black Tally — Names, weights, and where they sleep; knowledge as power. ‘[WEIGHT]‘ ‘[INFORMATION]‘ The tally is a skull. Read the names, and the skull will whisper their secrets. The skull’s teeth are made of crystal. They hum. The tally was written by the Reaping. It is still writing. Naval Intelligence wants it. The Oligarchs want it more.

8. Salvage Rights — A named wreck; first claim, no questions. ‘[TRAVEL]‘ ‘[WEALTH]‘ The wreck is a ghost ship. The ghost is the original owner. The ghost does not remember its name. It will trade the ship for a new one — a name, a memory, a drop of crystal brine. The Ordo Artificum wants the wreck. They want what is inside.

9. Lighthouse Key — Stolen; redirect ships where you will. ‘[AUTHORITY]‘ ‘[DECEPTION]‘ The key is a tuning fork. Strike it, and the lighthouse will lie for you. The lie becomes truth for one tide. The lighthouse keeper weeps. Her tears are crystal. She is an Adjutant agent. She has been weeping for forty years.

10. Weight-Marker — The Syndicate owes you a favor; obligation as an asset. ‘[SOCIAL]‘ ‘[WEIGHT]‘ The marker is a coin. The Syndicate’s symbol is worn smooth — by regret. The coin is warm. It tastes of brine. It also tastes of crystal. The Syndicate will honor it — once. Then they will want it back. The Oligarchs have a standing offer to buy markers. They pay in favors.

11. Queen’s Blessing — Safe passage through the Shallows; charm as protection. ‘[TRAVEL]‘ ‘[SOCIAL]‘ The blessing is a kiss. The Pirate Queen’s lips taste of salt and blood. After the kiss, you dream of the Reaping. You wake with a new weight. The weight is written on your skin in crystal. It fades after a week. The Reaping does not forget. The Gray Lady has asked the Queen for a blessing. The Queen refused.

12. Kraken’s Favor — The tides part for your ship, once; nature as an ally. ‘[TRAVEL]‘ ‘[MAGIC]‘ The favor is a tentacle wrung dry. When you need it, soak it in seawater. The tentacle will write a name in the foam. Do not speak that name. The name is the Reaping’s. It will answer. The Salt-Bitten have offered a favor. They want something in return.

13. Prince’s Coin — Bribe any official, silence any witness. ‘[SOCIAL]‘ ‘[WEIGHT]‘ The coin is a finger bone. The official who takes it will not speak — or not listen. The bone belonged to the Salt Prince’s predecessor. He is still alive. He is in the coin. He is made of crystal. Patron Alaric has a box of them. He is selling them.

14. Serpent’s Mark — The reef itself will guide you home; danger as a guide. ‘[TRAVEL]‘ ‘[MAGIC]‘ The mark is a scar on your palm. The reef will cut you — but it will also open. The cut bleeds crystalline brine. The brine is the Reaping’s attention. Use it sparingly. The Reaping will remember. It will ask for a name. The Salt-Bitten are marked. They have forgotten their names.

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/contracts/goods) that change position rather than call for a roll.

• If any A appears, echo salt and serpent motifs — tides that remember, reefs that shift, the deep that listens, crystal that grows in the dark. If the A is a Heart, a Naval Intelligence agent appears. If the A is a Spade, a new artifact vault is discovered. If the A is a Club, the Reaping’s influence spreads. If the A is a Diamond, an Oligarch factor offers a deal.

Additional Features

• Tide Timer : Scenes run on a four-segment Tide Timer (Low → Flood → Slack → Ebb). Each advance shifts Position: Low tide reveals hidden wrecks and bolt-holes; Flood tide drowns streets and seals doors. When the Timer turns, the Keeper may demand 1 SB tied to the waters.

• Reaping’s Corrosion (Timer [8]): Tracks the slow corruption of the party’s souls. See § for full mechanics.

• Syndicate Weight: Every deal leaves a mark. Track a single Weight value (0–3). At 3, the Syndicate calls it in: a betrayal, a levy, an unwanted escort. Clear 1 Weight by paying a Diamond or sacrificing a useful contact.

• Adjutant Status: Tracks the party’s relationship with Naval Intelligence. Starts at 0. Advances when the party helps Naval Intelligence or recovers artifacts for them. At 3+, gain access to Adjutant resources (safe passage, intelligence reports, Ordo Artificum access). At negative, Naval Intelligence begins active surveillance.

• Oligarch Standing: Tracks the party’s relationship with Patron Alaric’s network. Advances when the party sells artifacts or accepts Oligarch patronage. At 3+, gain access to the black market and artifact auctions. At negative, Oligarch agents begin sabotaging the party’s operations.

• Whispers Deep: Rumors carry teeth. When characters openly boast, bargain, or betray, roll 1d6: 1–3, Whispers spread, increasing SB generation; 4–6, Whispers favor the PCs, lowering suspicion until the tide turns. The Gray Lady’s agents influence the roll.

• Local Patrons (Syncretic Names):

  • The Reckoner — Maelstraeus. Interest on every contract; the coin that always comes back.

  • The Salt-Bitten Angel — Malachai. A silver coin that tastes of brine; a blessing that drowns.

  • The Kraken’s Father — Khemesh. The pressure beneath the keel; the weight the sea collects.

  • The Tide Father — The Traveler. The current that carries you home — or to the reef.

  • The Crystal Matrix — The Ninth. The Reaping’s true nature; silence that has taken form.

  • The Gray Lady’s Lantern — The Witness (syncretic). The truth that Naval Intelligence records; the secret that cannot be hidden.

Lore Echoes (Cross-Expansion Hooks)

• The Bitter Root: Daughters of the Cord run a hospice in the Sunken Quarter. They ask no payment — but they cut threads. A renegade Sister hides among the eel-cults, trying to untie her cord from the Salt Prince’s tally. She claims the Reaping is the Cord’s original sin. No one knows if she is right. Her cord is made of crystal. Commodore Voss has interviewed her. She did not tell her everything.

• The Threshold Compendium: The Serpent’s Spine is a Class II Anchor site — the bound spirit of a drowned admiral. Saikou Ira would trade his silver mirror for a single reef chart. The mirror shows the Reaping as a crystalline spider. He has not slept since. His reflection is missing. The Ordo Artificum has a copy of his notes. They have added their own annotations.

• Malachai, the Chained Angel: A silver coin that never spends circulates among the smugglers. Take it, and your cargo always passes inspection — but the coin will taste of brine every time you touch it, and the Angel will ask for a favor before the next full moon. The favor is always to carry a message to the Salt Prince. The message is a single word: “Soon.” The coin is warm. It grows warmer. The Gray Lady has a collection of them. She is not the one who spends them.

• The Reckoner (Maelstraeus): The Crimson Docks keep a tally signed in salt water; those who borrow from the Reckoner find that their interest compounds with every tide. A captain who defaults may wake to find their ship’s name struck from all records, as if it had never sailed. The Reckoner’s ink is crystalline. It writes itself. It also writes the names of the dead. Patron Alaric has a standing account with the Reckoner. He has never defaulted.

• The Gray Wanderer’s Grimoire: Zakov psions are called “Tide-Readers.” They taste the future in the salt. The Pirate Queen employs two — and has never trusted a forecast that didn’t cost blood. The Reaping’s presence makes their predictions unreliable. They taste crystal instead of salt. They have stopped predicting. They only listen. Commodore Voss employs Tide-Readers too. She does not trust them. She keeps them close.

• The Ninth: In any Zakov scene, the ninth ship to enter the harbor in a tide will be claimed by the reef. The wise wait for the tenth — or pay a name to the Kraken’s Tongue. The reef is not a reef. It is a crystalline mouth. It has been feeding for centuries. It is still hungry. The Salt-Bitten are building it a new mouth.

Zakov Superstitions (burn for +1 die once)

• Bread to the Tide: Toss a crust into the water before a voyage. Ignore the first Tide Shift penalty. ‘[SUPERSTITION]‘

• Knot the Manifest: Tie a single knot in a corner of your cargo list. Cancel Voided Contract or take –1 die on your next customs check (your choice). ‘[SUPERSTITION]‘

• Name to the Reef: Whisper a dead captain’s name into the Serpent’s Spine. Gain +1 Effect when navigating the Shallows this scene, but mark Obligation to the Kraken’s Tongue. ‘[SUPERSTITION]‘

• Crystal to the Deep: Drop a clear shard of glass (not crystal — glass) into the water at low tide. The Reaping will notice the deception — but it may be amused. Roll twice on the next Reaping’s Corrosion tick and take the better result. ‘[SUPERSTITION]‘

• Gray Thread to the Anchor: Tie a gray thread around a ship’s anchor chain before sailing. Naval Intelligence will not stop you. They will watch. They always watch. ‘[SUPERSTITION]‘

Thematic SB Spend Table

Minor Complications (1 SB)

• Exposure: Your actions draw unwanted attention from syndicate enforcers, dock guards, Adjutant agents, or Oligarch factors.

• Noise: Sounds of your actions alert nearby pirates, tavern patrons, Gray Lady’s informants, or Ordo Artificum scholars.

• Trace: Evidence of your passage marks your route for trackers, fence networks, Naval Intelligence surveillance, or Salt-Bitten cultists.

• 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: Dock-master, corsair lieutenant, Adjutant agent, or Oligarch factor becomes aware and begins responding.

• Position Lost: You lose advantageous ground/cover/stealth due to tide shift, syndicate patrol, Adjutant sweep, or artifact hunt.

• Foe Appears: A rival syndicate, pirate crew, Naval Intelligence team, or Salt-Bitten cultist cell arrives on scene.

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

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

• Adjutant Interest: Naval Intelligence begins active surveillance. The Gray Lady’s agents are watching.

Serious Trouble (3 SB)

• Reinforcements: Additional syndicate enforcers, pirate crews, Naval Intelligence assets, Oligarch mercenaries, or Salt-Bitten cultists arrive.

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

• Major Twist: The situation fundamentally changes — contract voided/storm hits/syndicate split/artifact stolen.

• 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: Salt Prince, Pirate Queen, Commodore Voss, Patron Alaric, or Drowned Admiral intervenes.

• Scene Shift: The environment changes dramatically — tide shifts/storm hits/blockade imposed/cathedral rises.

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

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

Region-Specific SB Options

• Zakov (Tide Power): Water levels change without warning, ships become stranded or flooded, tidal currents shift direction.

• Zakov (Syndicate Politics): Protection money demands increase, rival factions make conflicting demands, contracts are voided mid-deal.

• Zakov (Pirate Culture): Ships are commandeered, crews mutiny, pirate codes are enforced with violence.

• Zakov (Reaping Corruption): A character’s reflection speaks in a different voice, a crystalline growth appears on a weapon, the party hears a harmonic hum from the deep, a shadow walks past with no source.

• Zakov (Kahfagian Presence): A Naval Intelligence surveillance team is spotted, an Oligarch factor makes a counter-offer, the Gray Lady’s cutter changes position, the Ordo Artificum archives a new artifact.

In Zakov, power flows through the control of smuggling routes, the management of syndicate weights, and the ability to navigate the complex web of pirate politics. The Salt Prince maintains nominal authority, but real power lies with those who control the tides, the reefs, and the flow of information through the city’s taverns and black markets. The true authorities are those who can provide safe passage, protect cargoes, and mediate between competing syndicates.

The Kahfagians change everything. Above the syndicate politics, a quieter war is fought. Naval Intelligence wants to contain the Reaping and recover the artifacts. The Oligarchs want to control the artifacts and profit from the chaos. The Ordo Artificum serves both — and neither. Patron Alaric funds the artifact hunt. Commodore Voss commands the Adjutant agents. The Gray Lady’s cutter is a permanent fixture in the smuggler’s gate. Players who engage with the Kahfagian factions will find themselves caught between two imperial powers that do not trust each other and do not care about Zakov’s survival.

The Reaping changes everything else. Whoever controls the crystalline shard — or understands its nature — holds a weapon that could unmake the city or save it. The Salt Prince keeps the Reaping’s location secret, but the Syndicates whisper that he is no longer its master. The Reaping has begun to act on its own. It reaches through the tide, through the dreams of the drowned, through the taste of brine in a smuggler’s coin. Zakov is not ruled by the Prince. It is ruled by a hunger that has been patient for centuries. The Astroegro sealed it. The first Salt Prince bargained with it. Now the seal cracks, and the crystal grows. The Kahfagians know this. They are trying to stop it. They are also trying to exploit it.

For the GM: Patronage in Zakov revolves around smuggling rights, safe harbors, and the ability to provide protection from both legal and illegal authorities. Rewards often take the form of tokens, charters, and safe passage that can be leveraged into greater influence. The Kahfagian factions add a layer of imperial pressure: Naval Intelligence offers intelligence and support but demands compliance; the Oligarchs offer wealth but demand loyalty; the Ordo Artificum offers knowledge but demands sacrifice. To emphasize the city’s fluid power and the creeping horror of the Reaping:

• Tie rewards to visible symbols (tokens, manifests, keys) that can be challenged, stolen, or voided — and that may carry a trace of crystal.

• Let rival syndicates and Kahfagian factions issue conflicting protections, forcing players to choose whose favor matters more — and whose weights are safer.

• Use the docks, taverns, and smuggling routes as arenas for social contests, where knowledge of custom and connections determines success — and where a character’s shadow may betray them.

• Track Reaping’s Corrosion, Naval Intelligence Influence, and Oligarch Standing as campaign timers. Their advance is the city’s slow death. The players can delay it, redirect it, or even embrace it — but they cannot ignore it. The Reaping is patient. The Gray Lady is watching. Patron Alaric is counting.

In Zakov, your reputation is your wealth, and your wealth determines whether you rule the waves or feed the fishes. But beneath the waves, the Reaping feeds on reputation too. And it is very, very hungry. The Gray Lady is hungry too. She just doesn’t show it.

Aelinnel (Aevrossa)

Stone, Bough, and Bright Things.

The law here flows like water over stone—it finds its own path, and woe to those who try to dam it with paper and pretense. The earth itself will testify against the unjust.

I am a Charcoal-Burner. My kilns tell us more than your books ever could. When the smoke curls left, the tide’s with you. When it splits in three, best stay by your own hearth till it burns straight again.

The gnomish homeland isn’t just a place where they count steps—it’s a place where they worship the count, and oh, how the Aelinnel love a good loophole in their beloved numerology. They count everything: steps, bells, offerings—because to them, precision isn’t just virtue; it’s leverage with a supernatural clause.

The fae courts of the Thorn Lady and the Green Knight watch every threshold. The Stone Prince keeps the old pacts indexed in ledgers that breathe. And the Green Gate opens at neap tide, expecting exact change in truths. The Aelinnel don’t just live between worlds—they arbitrate them.

Never bring naked iron past a hawthorn arch unless it is gilded or named. Copper is polite, silver is opinionated, cold iron is an accusation. The hawthorn will remember which you carried.

— Tallow, Charcoal-Burner, who has never lost a sheep to the Hollow but has lost three helpers who did not listen

What do people eat for breakfast? Honey-cakes and mushroom tea—the honey is from the hawthorn groves, the mushrooms are harvested from the root-caverns. The cakes are baked in copper moulds. The moulds are shaped like animals. The animals are not edible. The shapes are for luck.

What does a child learn before they can walk? To count in eights. Aelinnel children are taught to group everything in eights—steps, breaths, heartbeats. The ninth is not a number. The ninth is a gap. The gap is where the Hollow sits. The Hollow is not a monster. The Hollow is a creditor. The debt is never paid in full.

What is the first thing you notice about a stranger? Their tools. Aelinnel carry copper—spoons, chisels, measuring rods. A stranger whose tools are iron is a barbarian. A stranger whose tools are silver is a priest. A stranger whose tools are gold is a fool. Gold does not ring true. Gold is for bribes. Bribes are for secrets.

What is the most common crime? Miscounting—but miscounting is not a crime, it is a geometric error. The error is corrected by the Stone Prince’s ledgers. The ledgers are kept in the Hall of Sums. The Hall is guarded by clockwork sentinels. The sentinels do not sleep. The sentinels do not forgive. The sentinels count every breath.

What does no one talk about but everyone knows? The Stone Prince is not a prince. The title is held by a committee of six elders who have never been seen together. They communicate through copper messages left in the Hall of Sums. The messages are written in a code that changes with the tides. The code has not been broken in three centuries. The code is not meant to be broken. The code is meant to be trusted.

Where do people go when they die? To the tide-gates—stone arches at the edge of the sea. The dead are laid on the threshold. The tide comes in. The tide takes them. The gates are older than the Aelinnel. The gates were built by something else. The gates are still watching.

How do you apologize for a serious wrong? You offer a counting—a public recitation of your wrong in the Stone Prince’s court. The court is a circle of copper chairs. The chairs are cold. The wrongdoer stands in the center. The elders count the syllables of your apology. If the count is even, you are forgiven. If the count is odd, you must leave an offering. The offering is measured in copper. The copper is weighed against your breath. The scales are never balanced.

What is the most important festival? The Opening of the Green Gate (autumn equinox). The gate appears at low tide, a stone arch that leads to—no one knows. The Aelinnel do not enter. They leave offerings: copper, honey, a single true name. The gate accepts. The gate closes. The gate waits.

What is the secret that could destroy a powerful person? The Green Knight is not a knight. She is the gatekeeper—the last survivor of the people who built the tide-gates. She wears a helm of polished brass. Her face has not been seen in living memory. Her voice is a recording. Her sword is a key. The key opens the gate. The gate does not want to be opened.

Aelinnel

Key Demographic: Aelinnel (Gnomes) Captial: Keisanki

Entanglements

To the Norht East:

Valewood – The Green Gate and the star-roads connect the two; the gnomish courts watch the forest’s phasing. The empire’s fallen towers cast long shadows into the gnomish halls.

To the South:

Aelaerem – The halfling downs are a friendly but wary neighbor; the barrows and the fae courts have an unspoken treaty. The red thread custom is shared, not owned.

To the West:

The Dolmis Sea – Trade with Zakov and Thepyrgos; the tide-path keys are valued currency. The gnomish counting-songs are an eerie counterpoint to the Reaping’s hum.

To the North:

The Valewood (deep) – The empire’s fallen towers are a source of treasure and terror; the star-roads are a shortcut that demands a toll in courtesy.

Quick Reference

Tagline: Count the steps, weigh the words, and never trust a single telling.

Lady of Thorns (Fae Sovereign): “The law here flows like water over stone – it finds its own path, and woe to those who try to dam it with paper and pretense. The earth itself will testify against the unjust. But the earth also lies – politely, and only when the moon is full.”

Charcoal-burner (Commoner): “Our kilns tell us more than your books ever could. When the smoke curls left, the tide’s with you. When it splits in three, best stay by your own hearth till it burns straight again. And never trust a court that speaks in only one voice – the silence is always the second witness.”

Genre / Mood: Dark faerie tale, moonlit groves, polite iron, and the uncanny weight of a promise unsaid.

Starting Location: A tide-shed at dawn, fog curling over anchored barges, gulls crying omens over the river’s black glass. A gnomish reeve offers passage on a sealed barge: “The Green Gate opens at neap tide. What we trade there, the Dolmis will not name. And if you hear someone counting your footsteps, do not turn around – they are only making sure you still have them.”

The Aelinnel do not build cities. They grow them – from granite and hawthorn, from tide-polished bone and the shadow of a laugh. Their halls thread through sea-cliffs and root-galleries, their roads are counted by antler-posts that move at night, and their doors open only when you have forgotten why you came. Here, promises have weight – not the weight of ink on parchment, but the weight of a stone dropped into a still pool. The ripples go on forever.

To the north, the Valewood breathes; to the south, the downs of Amedell where the Aelaerem tie red threads to keep the Hollow at bay. The Green Gate sometimes opens onto halfling barrows – a fact neither people speaks of aloud, because speaking aloud gives the gate permission to move.

No single crown rules the gnomish lands. Dozens of courts, seasonal pacts, and garden societies weave a shifting lattice of loyalty. Some Aelinnel keep the old fae treaties, speaking in two voices and never carrying naked iron; others barter in the Green Market with memories instead of coin, treating courtesy as a kind of lockpicking. Still others vanish into the deep woods, listening to stag-roads where the trees whisper gossip about the living. The gnomish heart is divided – and that division is the only reason the fae haven’t eaten them whole.

Craft and courtesy govern every traffic between mortal keeps and the courts under the hill. Gnomish stone-singers hum bridges into alignment, their melodies keeping the Green Gate at bay. Forester-wardens hammer copper nails into thresholds because iron, they say, startles the truth. In markets under living roofs, a sentence can be folded like a napkin, and a memory can be wrapped for travel – but never opened before the second sunrise. Paths sometimes shorten for those who keep good count, and lengthen for those who sneer at patterns. The fae are never rude – but they are never, ever safe.

Prominent NPCs of Aelinnel

Names of Aelinnel

Aelinnel names are built from soft vowels (ae, ei, ui, oi) and liquid consonants (l, r, n, m) with occasional sharp endings (-k, -t, -x). Surnames are often taken from a notable grove, a tide-mark, or an ancestor’s defining courtesy. They evoke the sound of water over stone and wind through hawthorn – and the silence that follows when both stop.

Spades — Places (stone spires, sea-rock, deep woods)

2. Tide-rift steps – Cut into black rock; limpets and old votive nails keep count for those who forget. The ninth step is underwater – and it still counts. [THRESHOLD]

3. Moonwell basin – A granite bowl; coins turn green in a week, names in a season, and memories in a year. The water never reflects the same face twice. [MAGIC]

4. Dolmen stair – Up a ridge; each capstone rings a different interval if you tap it true. The ninth stone is silent – it only rings when someone lies. [MUSIC]

5. Charcoal coppice – Under witch-hazel; a neat ash-heap hides a door that opens on even knocks only. Knock an odd number, and the door will open – but not where you left it. [SECRET]

6. Basalt organ cliffs – Sea-caves breathe like slow bellows; the wind prefers prime numbers. When it plays a ninth, the cliffs hum back. [NATURE]

7. Stag Road – Game-trail marked by antler-posts; hooves know it best, maps accept it grudgingly. The posts move at night – not to confuse, but to keep the road honest. [TRAVEL]

8. Quartz spring – Sand shines like ground stars; drinkers tell the same story with better structure. The ninth sip tastes of copper – and a promise you haven’t made yet. [HEALING]

9. Elf-causey – Pale flags through a marsh; visible at dawn and dusk and whenever someone is counting aloud. Count to nine, and the flags turn to water. [FAE]

10. Root gallery – Under an oak hill; lanterns hang from living bark – two lit, one listening. The listening lantern is for the Hollow. It never lights. [UNDERGROUND]

11. Barrow gallery – Stone chimes; a cold draft from below plays scales no throat can sing. The ninth note is always a sigh. [DEATH]

12. Thorn Court ring – Hawthorns trained into arches; petals fall like knife-points and settle into proofs. Step into the center, and the thorns will ask you a riddle. Answer wrong, and you become a hedge. [FAE] [DANGER]

13. Hall of Aelinnel – A timber keep threaded between standing stones; floors level themselves for guests. The ninth stone in the floor is always warm – it remembers the last person who lied. [CIVILISATION]

14. The Green Gate – In a sea-arch; at certain tides it opens to a forest not on any map, and expects exact change. It does not accept coin. It accepts explanations. [GATE]

Hearts — People & Factions (keepers, courts, craftsmen, hunters)

2. Goat-herd of the stone edges – Measures danger in hoof-widths; never wrong twice. The third time, she doesn’t measure – she runs. [SURVIVAL]

3. Charcoal-burner clan – Read draught and omen by smoke; their kilns hum in thirds. When the hum stops, someone has asked a question they shouldn’t have. [DIVINATION]

4. Hedge-witch – A pocket of thorns and prices stated in unlesses. Her fees are always conditional: “I will heal your child, unless the moon is full, in which case I will only listen.” [MAGIC] [SOCIAL]

5. Stone-singer (quarryman) – Hum finds a seam and a secret; walls relax when they pass. The ninth hum is for doors that do not exist – yet. [CRAFT]

6. Forester-warden – Copper nails and a polite dislike of iron; paths obey their hammer. They never cut a branch – they ask permission, and sometimes the branch says no. [NATURE]

7. Reed-net fisher – Knows when the selkies listen; mends nets to lullabies in 5s and 8s. The ninth verse is always for the drowned. [TRADE]

8. Oath-carver – Sets promises in quartz so they can be seen; breaks none, bends many. A broken quartz-oath turns to sand – and the sand remembers. [LAW] [OATH]

9. Way-keeper of the Stag Road – Never lost, often followed, sometimes found ahead. When she stops at a crossroads, she always turns her back to the ninth path. [GUIDE]

10. Green-market broker – Trading truths for trinkets and back again; receipts in leaf-vein script. The truth she sells is always true – but never the truth you asked for. [COMMERCE]

11. Green Knight – Antler helm, mirror-bright blade, courtesy old as frost; keeps a tally of saved insults. He never unsheathes his sword – he only shows it, and that is usually enough. [FAE] [DUEL]

12. Lady of Thorns – Sovereign of a hawthorn court; smiles like a snare and forgives in exact measures. Her forgiveness is always exactly one thorn’s weight – no more, no less. [FAE] [LAW]

13. Stone Prince of Aelinnel – Mortal crown with fae obligations properly indexed and current. He is the only gnome who has never lied – because he never speaks in declaratives. [AUTHORITY]

14. Huntsman of the Moonlit Ride – His horn turns shortcuts into roads, and obligations into destinations. When he blows the ninth note, the hunt ends – but the hunted never comes back. [HUNT]

Clubs — Complications/Threats (glamour, geasa, weather, neighbors)

2. Glamour fog – Time drifts, footfalls don’t match, conversations arrive neatly folded. Open a sentence, and you may find last Tuesday inside. [ILLUSION]

3. Iron offense – Someone brought the wrong nails to the right grove; paths take it personally. The trees do not speak – they remember. [SOCIAL] [WEIGHT]

4. Root-slide – Pulls a trail two ridges away while you blink; your footprints stay where they were. The footprints will wait for you – for nine days. After that, they walk home without you. [TRAVEL]

5. Wrong tide at the sea-arch – Boats rise where arithmetic says no and physics excuses itself. The ninth wave is always the wrong one – it goes sideways. [WEATHER]

6. Spoken geas – Catches on an unlucky word; the task names itself and refuses synonyms. You cannot say “fetch” when you meant “steal” – the geas knows the difference. [MAGIC] [OATH]

7. Green Market price – Payment demanded in names and memories; change returned in riddles. The riddles are always about thresholds. The answers are always doors. [COMMERCE] [WEIGHT]

8. Stone-wight stirs – In a barrow; echoes hate company and file complaints as drafts. The complaints are written in a language that only the dead speak – and they are very articulate. [DEATH]

9. Lost day – The sun miscounts; your dawn arrives at supper and demands bread. The bread must be from a loaf you have not yet baked. [TIME]

10. Thorn blight – Crawls across orchards; pruners bleed stories that grow where they drip. The stories are always about a door you left open. [CURSE]

11. Stag horn sounds – Everyone owes the chase – especially you, especially now. The horn does not say who is hunting. It only says that the hunt has begun. [HUNT] [WEIGHT]

12. Thorn Court tithe – Levied on the Hall; arrests wear flowers and quote etiquette. The charge is always insufficient courtesy. The penalty is always a lesson. [LAW] [SOCIAL]

13. Muster of the Bough – Forest banners rise; travel becomes trespass by default. The banners were trees yesterday. They are still adjusting. [CONFLICT]

14. Green Gate yawns – At the wrong hour; roads rewire across your path with excellent logic. The logic is always sound. The destination is always somewhere else. [GATE] [MYSTERY]

Diamonds — Treasures & Discoveries (charms, passes, host-rights, exceptions)

2. Hazel token – Step through a hedge uncut, once; the scratch you did not get will remember you kindly. The token is a nut. Crack it open, and the hedge will part – but it will also ask a question. [PROTECTION]

3. Salt license – Carry and use ward-salt where it’s discouraged; doors frown and open anyway. The license is a pinch of salt in a silk pouch. The silk was a promise. [UTILITY]

4. Dolmen carving-right – Inscribe a name or claim on a speaking stone; arguments quiet while you carve. The stone will remember your chisel’s touch. It will also remember what you were thinking. [AUTHORITY]

5. Guest-bough – From the Thorn Court; one night’s safe table among thorns; knives behave. The bough is a twig with three thorns. Break one thorn for each courtesy you ask. When all three are broken, the table becomes a door. [HOSPITALITY]

6. Quarry allotment – Of clear quartz; subtle doors open to its bearer if asked in the right tense. The right tense is not past or future – it is conditional. [ACCESS]

7. Green Market voucher – Buy a truth at face value (today only); tomorrow costs interest. The interest is always a memory – and the voucher chooses which one. [COMMERCE]

8. Oath-bead – A spoken promise warms the bead when kept, chills when not, glows if misunderstood. A glowing bead is not a broken promise – it is a promise that has learned to speak for itself. [OATH]

9. Tide-path key – Lawful crossing of a named sea-cave at neap; the cave will wait. The key is a piece of dried seaweed. It will dissolve after one use – but the cave will remember your face. [TRAVEL]

10. Forest truce – Hunt, cut, or travel through a warded copse without offense; the birds file no reports. The truce is a single leaf. Carry it in your mouth, and the forest will not see you – but the Hollow will. [PERMISSION]

11. Green Knight escort – From ridge to gate; watchers bow, paths part, insults lodge elsewhere. The Knight does not speak during the escort. The silence is the escort. [PROTECTION]

12. Private audience – With the Lady of Thorns; a whisper exits as policy with petals attached. The petals are sharp. Do not handle them carelessly – they cut what they agree with. [AUTHORITY]

13. Stone Prince’s seal – Levies defer, foresters guide, scribes stop arguing and fetch tea. The seal is a pebble. It only works when you are not looking at it. [AUTHORITY]

14. Wild Hunt clemency – Ride under the horn for one night; no hound will take you, no obligation will sleep. The clemency is a silver bell. Ring it, and the Hunt will pass you by – but the Hollow will ride behind you until dawn. [PROTECTION]

Field Procedures (Use At the Table)

• Two-Voice Talk: When parley stalls, the GM asks: “What was said? What was meant?” If players state both, cancel the first social SB this scene; if they refuse, the next bargain demands collateral (memory/name). The collateral is always returned – but never in the same condition.

• Count or Be Counted: At any fae-touched crossing, a player who audibly counts in a fitting sequence (steps, heartbeats, breaths) shifts Position one step safer for that crossing. Boasting or mocking numbers adds a free “Geas Catches” SB. The geas is always about a door. The door is always behind you.

• Copper Courtesy Check: Producing copper/brass tools in a ritual space removes the first Fae Offense tag this scene; drawing iron instead escalates the next Complication by +1 Cap. The escalation is always polite. The result is never.

Boss Archetypes in Aelinnel

Court & Courtesy (Fae Sovereigns)

• Lady of Thorns (Etiquette Engine) – Punishes breaches with precise harms, rewards perfect courtesy with literal boons. Win by satisfying three courtesies in sequence (no iron, two-voice speech, return the waymark). The third courtesy is always a riddle. The riddle is always about a door.

• Green Knight (Trial by Pattern) – Duel of paths and proofs, not blades. Win by presenting a higher-count route (Fibonacci, even-steps) or yielding a deserved apology at the right number. The right number is never nine. The right number is always eight – and a pause.

Threshold & Hunt (Environment that Judges)

• Moonlit Ride (Wild Hunt) – Three phases: Sounding (horns), Coursing (paths shorten for the bold), Closing the Ring. Win by naming safe-clemency, joining the chase without taking a prey, or blowing the right counter-call (2–3–5). The counter-call must be a question. The question must be about the Hollow. The Hollow does not answer – but it listens.

• Green Gate (Living Crossing) – Demands exact change in truths. Win by paying a memory that fits the posted proof; forcing passage triggers “Roads Rewired.” The posted proof is always incomplete. The missing part is the ninth word.

Numbers & Glamour (Logical Anomalies)

• Glamour Fog (Layered Illusion) – Each layer dispelled by a correct count, courtesy, or copper rite. Win by completing the Three Proofs: count aloud, return a borrowed path token, trade a said/meant receipt. The third proof is always a promise. The promise is always to a shadow.

• Lost Day (Time Miscount) – The sun miscounts hours. Win by reconciling two ledgers (what happened / what should have), then ringing a prime-number chime. The prime number is always 2, 3, 5, or 7 – never 9. 9 is not a number in Aelinnel. 9 is a suggestion.

Market & Oath (Contract Tricksters)

• Green-Market Broker (Truth Arbitrage) – Buys your meanings, sells your words. Win by catching them in a one-voice statement or producing an Oath-Bead that chills (misunderstood clause). The misunderstood clause is always the one you left unsaid. The broker knew you would.

• Oath-Carver Gone Wrong (Quartz Tyrant) – Binds towns with over-precise promises. Win by carving a Release Unless into communal quartz at cost of a public truth. The truth must be one you have never told. The quartz will remember it. The quartz will also share it – politely, and only with the Hollow.

Stone & Memory (Ancestral Hazards)

• Stone-Wight Chorus (Echo Jurors) – Resent footsteps, adore proofs. Win by tapping the dolmen scale that matches the grievance and returning a taken token to the barrow. The token is always a memory. The memory is always someone else’s. Return it carefully – the dead are particular about provenance.

Among the Aelinnel, power flows through courtesy, oath, and the hidden geometry of the land. A Stone Prince’s authority rests on indexed fae treaties; a Green Knight’s on the trials he has witnessed. There is no single crown, only the shared understanding that a broken promise cuts deeper than a sword – and that a promise kept is a door that opens both ways.

For the GM: Power in Aelinnel society is measured in hazel tokens, oath-beads, and the precision of a courtesy. Patronage often takes the form of guest-boughs, tide-path keys, or the Green Knight’s escort – each tied to a specific court, grove, or obligation. To emphasize the cultural mechanics:

• Use Two-Voice Courtesy to reward players who pay attention to the unspoken. The unspoken is where the fae live.

• Enforce Copper over Iron – carrying iron is not forbidden, but it is a statement. The statement is always heard. The hearing is always remembered.

• Let The Unsaid Clause be a source of future complications; the fae love what is not said. They will fill the silence with their own words – and their words have weight.

• Track Obligation to the Green Gate as a persistent timer. Each crossing without proper payment ticks it toward a visit from the Huntsman. The Huntsman is always polite. The Huntsman is always hungry.

In Aelinnel society, the stone remembers every step – and the Green Gate forgets no promise. The ninth step is not a step. The ninth step is a door. The door is always open. You just have to remember how to knock.

Aelaerem

Hearth & Hollow.

A proper harvest feast requires three things: the finest cider aged in the right barrel, a guest-loaf baked with intention, and the wisdom to know when to invite the quiet ones to sit by the fire.

I am a Miller. My geese know a stranger’s step from a mile off, and they’ve never been wrong. One is named ”Stranger.“ It has never been wrong.

The halfling downs aren’t just a place where they keep the Hollow at bay—they’re a marketplace for fear, and oh, how the Aelaerem love a good bargain on safety. They use red threads and offerings not out of piety, but because they know the Hollow’s attention is a commodity—and they’ll pay dearly to avoid it.

A red door means bread, salt, and one safe night if you come honest. A cup-mark stone on the verge accepts butter as a prayer. The watch-geese know your step before you do, and the scarecrow turns to face the road when the Hollow is hungry. The Neighbors—the things under the barrows—are not enemies. They are neighbors. And neighbors, if treated politely, will stay on their side of the hedge.

Never refuse an offered cup. The Hollow counts refusals as invitations. Pour the ninth cup for the empty chair, and you may feed it—or feed it.

— Bram, Miller of the Watch-Geese, who has never been surprised

What do people eat for breakfast? Porridge with honey and a pinch of salt—the salt is for the Hollow. Every Aelaerem household leaves a pinch on the threshold each morning. The Hollow does not eat. The Hollow counts. The salt is an offering. The offering is a reminder.

What does a child learn before they can walk? To tie a red thread. Aelaerem children are given a length of red wool at birth. By age three, they can tie the eight hearth-knots: welcome, farewell, protection, memory, warning, promise, apology, and the ninth—the one that is never tied. The ninth knot is for the Hollow. The Hollow does not tie knots. The Hollow waits for you to tie them yourself.

What is the first thing you notice about a stranger? Their shadow. Aelaerem shadows are long and thin, even at noon. A stranger whose shadow is short has been touched by the Neighbors. A stranger whose shadow is wrong—too many limbs, too few—is a Neighbor. Do not invite them in. Do not refuse them bread. The law is clear: feed them, but do not ask their name.

What is the most common crime? Offering the ninth cup—but the ninth cup is not a crime, it is a negotiation. The pourer offers a drink to the empty chair. The Hollow may accept. If it does, the house is blessed for a year. If it does not, the house is marked. The mark is a red thread tied to the door. The thread is never removed. The house is never sold.

What does no one talk about but everyone knows? The Apple-Matron is a title, not a person. The Matron is the oldest woman in the village. When she dies, the second-oldest takes her place. The Matron’s memory is the village’s memory. The Matron forgets nothing. The Matron’s memory is fading. The village is forgetting. The forgetting is the Hollow’s doing.

Where do people go when they die? To the barrows—the low, green mounds that dot the downs. The dead are buried in family plots, marked with cup-stones. The cup-stones are filled with rainwater. The rainwater is changed weekly. The water is for the dead. The dead are not thirsty. The dead are counting.

How do you apologize for a serious wrong? You leave a red thread on the wronged party’s doorstep. The thread must be tied in a specific knot—the knot of apology, which is also the knot of debt. The wronged party may accept the thread or cut it. If they accept, the debt is recorded. If they cut it, the debt is unpaid. The unpaid debt grows. The growing debt attracts the Hollow.

What is the most important festival? The Harvest Home (autumn). The last sheaf of grain is tied with red thread and left in the field. The Hollow takes it. The Hollow does not take anything else. The Hollow is patient. The Hollow will wait for the ninth cup.

What is the secret that could destroy a powerful person? The Pale Shepherd is not a shepherd. It is a title held by the Hollow itself. The Shepherd appears as a figure in gray robes. Its face is a mask of bone. Its voice is a recording of the last words of the person who saw it last. That person is always dead. The recording is always accurate.

Aelaerem (Halflings) — “Hearth & Hollow”

Key Demographic: Aelaerem (Halfling) Captial: Amedell

Entanglements

To the North East:

Valewood – The downs rise toward the forest; the Green Gate sometimes opens onto halfling barrows. The Hollow’s attention is a shared dread.

To the North:

Aelinnel – The gnomes trade in copper and courtesy; the two small-folk peoples share the red thread custom but distrust the fae. The barrows and the fae courts have an unspoken treaty.

To the West:

The Dolmis Sea – Coastal fishing and rare trade with Zakov; the Hollow’s attention does not cross salt water easily, but the tide brings strange things ashore.

To the South West:

Theona (within the Dolmis) – The Green Host’s riders do not cross the water, but the Ninth Taboo echoes in the halfling tongue. The ninth cup is never poured on either shore.

Quick Reference

Tagline: The hollow counts your steps. The thread remembers your name.

Apple-Matron (Elite): “A proper harvest feast requires three things: the finest cider aged in the right barrel, a guest-loaf baked with intention, and the wisdom to know when to invite the quiet ones to sit by the fire.”

Orra, keeper of the Amedell mill and cider press (Commoner): “Sit by the flour bin, love. That chair is sound. My geese make a scandal of every stranger, then take bread from the same hand; do not mistake noise for judgment. I watch who wipes their feet without being asked. I watch who asks after the empty cottage. There is cider if you are staying. If you are going up the hill, leave your bundle here. People come back lighter from there, and not always pleased about it.”

Genre / Mood: Pastoral folk horror, hearth magic, the weight of thresholds.

Starting Location: A cider-press barn perfumed with crushed apples and rain, where masks hang from beams awaiting the next festival. The Apple-Matron sits on a stool of woven twigs. Behind her, a Moot Oak leaf bleeding red sap onto a stone. “The Hollow walks early this year,” she says. “The Moot Oak bleeds wine. Will you speak for the field, or let the Neighbors claim it? Speak true—the geese are listening.”

In Amedell, the Aelaerem keep their bonds with bread, bells, and careful counting. Lanes run under ash and hawthorn; doors reddened with thread promise a seat and a story to any who step right. Their magic is housekeeping writ large — thresholds groomed, names jarred like jam, the Hollow fed with silence and the ninth cup left unpoured. When the Neighbors stir beneath the barrows, the folk answer with kettle songs and lantern law, and the fields behave because someone asked them to. Hospitality here is not kindness—it is a covenant. Every meal is a promise, every gift a thread, every candle an argument against the dark.

Amedell lies south of the Aelinnel homeland of Aevrossa, separated by the rolling downs and the slow waters of the River Adder. The two small-folk peoples share trade in red thread, copper, and seasonal hospitality, though the Aelaerem keep a wary distance from the fae-touched gnomish courts. It lies on the southeastern coast of the Dolmis, although the Aelaerem are rarely out to sea beyond coastal fishing.

What you notice first: The smell of baking bread and old apples. The way every threshold has a red thread tied at eye level. The silence of children when a stranger passes the village stone.

The one rule that kills newcomers: Never refuse an offered cup. The Hollow counts refusals as invitations. Pour the ninth cup for the empty chair, and you may feed it—or feed it.

Regional Mood: Warm Hearths, Cold Thresholds

Here, the land is not wilderness—it is a living weave of favors and omissions. The Aelaerem do not build walls; they build hedges, stiles, and the careful geometry of guest-right. A red door means bread, salt, and one safe night if you come honest. A cup-mark stone on the verge accepts butter as a prayer. The watch-geese know your step before you do, and the scarecrow turns to face the road when the Hollow is hungry. The Neighbors—the things that live under the barrows, in the uncounted ninth step, in the space between the candle and its shadow—are not enemies. They are neighbors. And neighbors, if treated politely, will stay on their side of the hedge.

The Hollow’s Attention (Campaign Timer )

The Hollow is not a monster. It is a forgetfulness that lives in thresholds, miscounts, and broken guest-right. Track its attention with a visible timer:

Hollow Attention [8] – Advances when:

• A character refuses an offered cup (+1)

• A promise is broken on a threshold (+1)

• The ninth cup is poured (+2)

• A guest-right is violated (GM spends 1 SB to tick +1)

• A child points at an empty chair (the Hollow is already listening; +0, but the GM gains 1 SB)

At 4 segments: Lanterns flicker without wind. Dogs whine at nothing. The Hollow is watching. At 8 segments: The Hollow manifests. Roll on the Hollow Walks table. The party must offer a story, a memory, or a name to appease it.

Hollow Walks (d6)

When the Hollow Attention timer reaches 8, roll 1d6 for the manifestation:

1. A pale figure stands at the edge of the circle. It asks for a name. Give a name (living or dead) and it leaves. Refuse, and it takes your shadow (–1 die on stealth for a week).

2. The ninth cup pours itself. Whoever drinks from it forgets their greatest joy (lose 1 XP, refundable by a quest).

3. A red thread appears tied around every PC’s wrist. It tightens when you lie. Cutting it costs 1 Corruption.

4. The geese fall silent. The Hollow is inside the circle. It demands a story that ends with a death. If the story is true, it leaves. If false, it takes a memory.

5. The Moot Oak bleeds sap. The Hollow speaks through it: “One of you carries a promise unpaid. Settle it now.” The one named must offer 1 Boon or 1 Supply. Refusal ticks the timer again immediately.

6. The empty chair is occupied by a figure in gray. It does not speak. It eats. If you serve it food, it leaves. If you ignore it, it eats your luck (all rolls are Desperate for the next scene).

Guest-Right Violations (d6)

When a PC breaks guest-right (refuses a cup, draws steel under a red door, insults the host), roll 1d6:

Prominent NPCs of Aelaerem

Names of Aelaerem

Inspired by the pastoral hill country of a green and misty isle: earthy, clipped, with soft vowels and hard consonants, evoking hearth, hedge, and hollow.

(Lanes/Orchards/Mills/Downs/Barrows)

Willow ford with flat stones and a bowed pollard that remembers faces; cider-press barn with sweet reek, old songs, doors that stick after dusk; chalk sheep-downs with a turf maze cut like a wheel.

Spades — Places

2. Willow Ford [RIVER] [OMEN]
   Flat stones, bowed pollard that remembers faces.
   The willow has a name. It will tell you if you sit beneath it and listen.
   Mechanical hook: To cross safely, you must whisper the willow’s name (Wits+Lore DV 3). On failure, the ford rises – lose 1 Supply (drowned cargo). On a critical failure, the willow asks for a story. Refuse and tick Hollow Attention +1.

3. Cider-Press Barn [HARVEST] [MEMORY]
   Sweet reek, old songs, doors that stick after dusk.
   The press was built from a barrow oak. The oak still dreams.
   Mechanical hook: Sleeping here gives you dreams of the barrow. On a Spirit+Lore test (DV 4), you learn a secret of the dead (a Clue). On failure, the dream follows you – gain the Condition Barrow-Dreamt (–1 die on all Resolve tests for a day).

4. Chalk Sheep-Downs [PASTURE] [RITUAL]
   Turf maze cut like a wheel; sheep know the pattern.
   The maze is a prayer. Walk it backward to ask a favor.
   Mechanical hook: Walking the maze backward (Body+Athletics DV 4) lets you ask one question of the land. The answer is a riddle. On a failure, you become lost – start a Lost in the Maze [4] timer.

5. Millpond Under Alders [WATER] [OMEN]
   The wheel turns some nights without water.
   The water is not water. It is the memory of rain.
   Mechanical hook: Drinking from the pond restores 1 Fatigue but gives you a vision of a forgotten promise. The GM gains 1 SB (the promise will surface later). Refusing to drink ticks Hollow Attention +1 (the pond is offended).

6. Bluebell Wood Path [FOREST] [WARD]
   Rabbit-gates and snares set by careful hands.
   The snares are for the Hollow. They catch only shadows—mostly.
   Mechanical hook: A character who trips a snare (failed Stealth) must test Spirit + Endurance (DV 4) or lose their shadow for one scene (–1 Position on stealth). On a success, the snare catches a shadow – the Hollow gains +1 SB.

7. Hedge-Tunnel Lane [BOUNDARY] [TRICK]
   Between fields; nine stiles, locals count “eight-and-one.”
   The ninth stile is a gap in the hedge. Step through, and the lane behind you changes.
   Mechanical hook: Count the stiles aloud. If you reach nine, the lane loops. Tick Hollow Attention +1. If you stop at eight and step through the gap, gain +1 Position on navigation for the next leg.

8. Cup-Mark Stone on the Verge [RITUAL] [OFFERING]
   Butter left in niches goes missing kindly.
   The butter vanishes before dawn. The Hollow leaves a pebble in exchange.
   Mechanical hook: Leave an offering (1 Supply) to clear 1 segment of Hollow Attention. If you take the pebble, you are marked – the GM may spend 1 SB to have the Hollow visit you in a dream.

9. Barrow-by-the-Beech [DEATH] [SILENCE]
   Bees go quiet at noon.
   The bees are not sleeping. They are listening.
   Mechanical hook: A character who listens to the bees (Wits+Lore DV 3) hears the name of the next person to die in the village. On a failure, the bees swarm – mark 1 Fatigue. Speaking the name aloud ticks Hollow Attention +2.

10. Market Green [COMMUNITY] [JUDGMENT]
    Maypole and stocks; carved village stones turned inward.
    The stones face the green. They watch the maypole dance—and the dancers.
    Mechanical hook: Any oath sworn on the green is witnessed by the stones. Breaking it ticks Hollow Attention +2 and the stones will not forget – the GM gains a String on the oath-breaker.

11. Dovecote Hill [OMEN] [FEAR]
    The scarecrow faces the road, not the rows.
    The scarecrow has a face. It is the face of the last person who broke guest-right.
    Mechanical hook: If the scarecrow turns to face you, you have one hour to leave the village. Tick Hollow Attention +1 for each hour you stay. The scarecrow can be appeased with a story (Spirit+Performance DV 4).

12. Mother’s Orchard [HARVEST] [PROMISE]
    Rows straighten if you don’t look—curve if you do.
    The orchard is a promise. Break it, and the apples will taste of ash.
    Mechanical hook: Picking an apple without permission ticks Hollow Attention +1. Eating an apple restores 1 Fatigue but gives you a Condition: Debtor to the Orchard (the next time you break a promise, the orchard will claim a memory).

13. Moot Oak [LAW] [MEMORY]
    Lantern nails hammered deep; benches at the roots.
    The nails are from a hundred feuds. Each one holds a grudge.
    Mechanical hook: A character who sits on the benches may be judged by the oak. On a Presence+Sway test (DV 4), you may settle a feud. On failure, the oak adds a nail for you – start a Grudge of the Oak [4].

14. Hollow Field [CURSE] [DANGER]
    A ring where no plow will hold a line, not for any coin.
    The field is a mouth. It has not fed in a century.
    Mechanical hook: Entering the field forces a Spirit + Endurance test (DV 4). On failure, you lose your appetite for a week (–1 die to all Endurance tests). The field can be fed a story or a memory to make it dormant for a year.

(Keepers/Elders/Mummers/Quiet Powers)

Hedge-witch midwife who ties red thread and unties feuds; miller and his watch-geese—better sentries than men.

Hearts — People & Factions

2. Hedge-Witch Midwife [HEALING] [BOUNDARY]
   Ties red thread, unties feuds, and knows which births the Hollow watches.
   Her thread is from her own hair. She never cuts it—only knots it.
   What they carry: She once tied a knot around a stillborn child to keep the Hollow from claiming it. The knot is still there. If you help her cut it, she will teach you a thread-ward.
   What they ask: A lock of hair from a woman who has never lost a child. She will not say why.

3. Miller [WATCHFUL] [LOYALTY]
   Watch-geese that remember faces; better sentries than men.
   The geese have names. One is “Stranger.” It has never been wrong.
   What they carry: The geese saved the village from a Hollow walk ten years ago. He has not slept since. If you watch the geese for a night (no roll), he will give you a Goose Feather (once, gain +1 die to detect ambush).
   What they ask: A name the geese do not know. He will carve it into a post.

4. Orchard Reeve [AUTHORITY] [HARVEST]
   Tally-stick, cider-stained smile, and a list of who owes what harvest.
   His tally-stick is an apple branch. The notches grow back.
   What they carry: He lost a notch to a thief. If you find the thief, he will waive your harvest tithe for a year.
   What they ask: A bushel of apples (1 Supply) or a story about a harvest that failed.

5. Beekeeper [SACRED] [SECRET]
   Keeps odd honey aside for “winter churches.”
   The honey is from barrow flowers. It tastes of earth and old promises.
   What they carry: The winter church once saved her bees from a blight. She has been paying in honey ever since. If you deliver a jar to the church, she will give you a Winter Honey (heals 1 Corruption, but the GM gains 1 SB).
   What they ask: A piece of wax. Melt it to seal a promise (the promise cannot be broken without the Hollow’s attention).

6. Shepherd [COMMAND] [SPIRIT]
   Bone whistle that calls dogs—and other things.
   The whistle is from a wolf. The wolf still answers.
   What they carry: The wolf’s ghost follows him. He wants to lay it to rest. If you help, he will teach you the whistle.
   What they ask: A wolf’s tooth. He will not say where he got it.

7. Lantern-Warden [WARD] [RITUAL]
   Trims lamps and knows which shadow is wrong.
   She lights the lamps in a pattern. The pattern is a prayer to keep the Hollow back.
   What they carry: One lamp went out last winter. The Hollow almost entered. She needs a new wick made from a hairless sheep. Find it, and she will bless your own lamp.
   What they ask: A night of silence (no speaking). If you break silence, the lamp gutters and ticks Hollow Attention +1.

8. Mummers’ Captain [TRANSFORMATION] [LAW]
   Chest of masks, stricter rules than church.
   The masks are not carved. They are grown.
   What they carry: A mask was stolen last festival. The thief wore it and became someone else. Find the mask (or the thief), and he will grant you a Mummers’ License.
   What they ask: A story about a time you wore a false face. The mask will listen.

9. Traveling Craft [TRADE] [OATH]
   Bright kettles, dull knife for cutting oaths.
   The knife was his father’s. His father used it to cut a promise with the Hollow.
   What they carry: The Hollow still wants the knife back. He will trade it for a story that makes the Hollow laugh. No one has succeeded.
   What they ask: A cut oath (void any minor promise). Using the knife ticks Hollow Attention +1 (the Hollow is watching).

10. Bailiff of the Moot Oak [LAW] [MEMORY]
    Polite as a noose, carries a tally of grudges.
    His tally is bark. The writing grows deeper each year.
    What they carry: He was once a hedge-witch’s apprentice. She cursed him to carry the tally forever. If you lift the curse, he will give you a Grudge Waiver (once, cancel a feud).
    What they ask: A name from the tally. He will not say which one.

11. Wold-Wardens [TRADITION] [BOUNDARY]
    Elders who swear by hedges, not crowns.
    They measure time in hedge-layers. A hedge that has grown for a century has a hundred opinions.
    What they carry: They lost a hedge-layer to a fire. The hedge is growing wild. If you help re-lay it (Craft test DV 5), they will grant you safe passage through any Aelaerem boundary for a year.
    What they ask: A cutting from the hedge. Plant it to claim a temporary threshold.

12. Apple-Matron [AUTHORITY] [HOSPITALITY]
    Hostess of harvest feasts; power sits where she pours.
    She pours the first cup for the eldest, the second for the guest, the eighth for the fire. The ninth cup is for the empty chair.
    What they carry: She has never poured the ninth cup. The Hollow is waiting. If you offer to pour it for her (a sacrifice), she will grant you a Blessing of the Hearth (once, ignore a guest-right violation).
    What they ask: A cup of your own blood. She will not explain.

13. Thresher-King [SEASONAL] [SACRIFICE]
    A title that moves but never leaves; harvest robes, seasonal authority.
    He is chosen by the last sheaf. The sheaf is always a little damp.
    What they carry: The sheaf is damp because it was cut from the Hollow Field. He is the field’s warden. If you help him harvest the field (a ritual), he will give you a Sheaf of Plenty (once, gain 1 Supply).
    What they ask: A sweat from your brow. The field is thirsty.

14. The Pale Shepherd [DEATH] [THRESHOLD]
    Comes when lambs are born and when people go missing.
    He has no face. His hat is a shadow.
    What they carry: He is the Hollow’s messenger. He does not bargain. He only collects. If you meet him, you have one minute to offer a story, a memory, or a name.
    What they ask: Nothing. He is not a patron. He is a deadline.

(Folk Omens/Rites/Beasts/Night)

Unseasonal fog; the road walks you back to your own gate. Scarecrow turns; it watches the lane, not the field. Black sow through the orchard; hooves scuff every charm.

Clubs — Complications/Threats

2. Unseasonal Fog [WEATHER] [TRAP]
   The road walks you back to your own gate.
   The gate is closed. The latch is red. Do not touch it.
   Mechanical hook: Navigation rolls are Desperate. On a Miss, you find yourself at the gate of a house that does not exist. The door opens. Inside, the Hollow waits. Offer a story or lose 1 Boon.

3. Scarecrow Turns [OMEN] [FEAR]
   It watches the lane, not the field.
   The scarecrow’s head follows you. The crows are silent.
   Mechanical hook: The scarecrow has marked you. Tick Hollow Attention +1. Until dawn, all stealth rolls are at –1 die (the crows are watching). You can appease it by leaving a coin in its pocket (1 Boon).

4. Soured Wassail [RITUAL] [TOLL]
   The bowl gives back names you did not speak.
   The names are of people who died last winter. They are not listed in any tally.
   Mechanical hook: If you drink from the bowl, you hear the names. On a Spirit+Endurance test (DV 4), you gain a clue about a death. On failure, one of the names is yours – the Hollow will visit you within a week (GM gains 3 SB).

5. Black Sow in the Orchard [CURSE] [OMEN]
   Hooves scuff every charm.
   The sow was a woman once. She broke a vow.
   Mechanical hook: The sow curses anyone who harms her. If you attack her, you gain the Condition Sow’s Mark (animals are hostile; +1 DV to all Beastcraft rolls). You can lift the curse by keeping a promise you have been avoiding.

6. Hive-Swarm at Dusk [NATURE] [OMEN]
   Smoke curls the wrong way.
   The bees are spelling a word. The word is “guest.”
   Mechanical hook: The bees are warning you. Tick Hollow Attention +1. If you ignore them, the next threshold you cross will be a trap (GM may spend 2 SB to worsen Position).

7. Old Song Taken Up by Children [MEMORY] [TABOO]
   Adults remember the verse none should sing.
   The verse is about a barrow that opened. The children think it is a lullaby.
   Mechanical hook: Any adult who hears the song must test Spirit + Endurance (DV 4) or sing along. Singing ticks Hollow Attention +1 and gives the GM a String on the singer (the barrow knows your name).

8. Lanterns Burn Blue at the Ford [THRESHOLD] [TOLL]
   Crossing costs more than coin.
   The blue light is a toll-keeper. Payment is a story—or a secret.
   Mechanical hook: To cross, a character must offer a story (Spirit+Performance DV 4). On failure, the toll-keeper takes a memory (lose 1 XP, refundable by a quest). Refusing to pay ticks Hollow Attention +2.

9. Out-of-Season Mumming [TRANSFORMATION] [TRAP]
   Masks stick; faces won’t come off.
   The masks are warm. They have a heartbeat.
   Mechanical hook: A character who wears a mask must test Spirit (DV 4) or the mask becomes their face for a day. While masked, they cannot speak their own name. Cutting the mask off costs 1 Harm.

10. Chalk Maze Fills with Mist [DIMENSION] [DANGER]
    You step out somewhere older.
    The mist has a smell—old wool and older bread.
    Mechanical hook: Navigation is impossible. Roll 1d6 to determine where you emerge: 1–2: the Hollow Field, 3–4: a barrow, 5–6: the Moot Oak. The GM gains 1 SB per emergence.

11. Church Bell Rings Thirteen [OMEN] [SPIRIT]
    Something attends the sermon.
    The thirteenth pew is empty. The dust on it is fresh.
    Mechanical hook: The Hollow is in the church. Anyone who prays here must test Spirit + Endurance (DV 4) or the Hollow answers. On failure, the Hollow offers a bargain: a secret in exchange for a memory. Refusal ticks Hollow Attention +2.

12. Harvest Tithe Demanded [TOLL] [SPIRIT]
    Hands gloved in leaves.
    The hands do not belong to anyone in the village.
    Mechanical hook: The tithe is 1 Supply or a story. If you pay with a story, the hands accept. If you refuse, the hands reach for your throat – start a Harvest Hunt [4] timer.

13. Moot Oak Bleeds Sap [OMEN] [VIOLENCE]
    The color of wine; talk turns to knives.
    The sap is warm. It tastes of blood and honey.
    Mechanical hook: Any feud discussed under the oak escalates. The GM may spend 1 SB to turn a minor dispute into a blood feud. The sap can be collected and used to seal an oath (the oath cannot be broken without the oak’s permission).

14. The Hollow Opens [CURSE] [DIMENSION]
    Burrows and barrows connect; footfalls answer underground.
    The footsteps are counting. They stop at eight.
    Mechanical hook: The Hollow is crossing. Any character who steps on a barrow must test Spirit + Endurance (DV 5) or be pulled underground. The party has one scene to rescue them before they become a Neighbor. Tick Hollow Attention to zero – the Hollow has fed.

(Blessings/Tokens/Host-Rights)

Guest-loaf and salt—one night’s safe board anywhere with a red door; cider-mark—a free cup on the green buys gossip and patience.

Diamonds — Treasures & Discoveries

2. Guest-Loaf & Salt [HOSPITALITY] [ONCE]
   One night’s safe board anywhere with a red door.
   The loaf is barley and rye. Break it with the host, and the Hollow will not cross the threshold—for one night.
   Hollow cost: If you break guest-right while using the loaf, the Hollow enters immediately. Tick Hollow Attention +4 and roll on the Hollow Walks table.

3. Cider-Mark [SOCIAL] [ONCE]
   A free cup on the green buys gossip and patience.
   The mark is a notch on a barrel. The tapster will remember you—or pretend not to.
   Hollow cost: Drinking the cider clears 1 Fatigue but gives you a vision of a death. The GM gains 1 SB (the vision will come true unless you intervene).

4. Hedge-Pass Ribbon [TRAVEL] [ONCE]
   Step through any thicket unsnagged, once.
   The ribbon is red. Tie it to a branch, and the thorns will part—once.
   Hollow cost: After use, the ribbon turns white. The Hollow can now cross that threshold. The GM may spend 1 SB to have the Hollow follow you through that same path later.

5. Bee-Queen Share [WARNING] [ONGOING]
   Honey and a warning from the hives when danger nears.
   The honey is from a queen who died last year. Her ghost still guards the comb.
   Hollow cost: The honey is addictive. Eating it gives +1 die to your next roll, but the Queen’s ghost will visit you in dreams. The GM may spend 1 SB to have the ghost ask for a favor.

6. Shepherd’s Whistle [COMMAND] [ONCE]
   Dogs and door-bolts heed you for one scene.
   The whistle is a knucklebone. Blow it, and the dogs will obey—or they will hide.
   Hollow cost: The wolf’s ghost follows the whistle. After use, you are haunted by the wolf for one day (–1 die on all stealth rolls). The wolf can be appeased with a story about a loyal animal.

7. Lantern-Writ [LIGHT] [ONCE]
   The lamps stay lit along your path despite wind.
   The writ is a bell. Ring it, and the lamps will not flicker—until dawn.
   Hollow cost: The lanterns attract the Hollow. Tick Hollow Attention +1. The Hollow will watch your path. If you use the writ again in the same region, it will appear.

8. Mummers’ License [MASQUERADE] [ONCE]
   Lawful mask and after-dark crossing for a feast day.
   The license is a wooden mask. Wear it, and the Hollow will see a stranger—not a guest.
   Hollow cost: The mask has a face. After use, you may see that face in reflections. The GM gains 1 SB to use for a horror complication. The mask can be returned to the Mummers’ Captain to clear this cost.

9. Orchard Right [SECRET] [ONCE]
   Pick at Mother’s Orchard without offense; the fruit hides a truth.
   The fruit is a secret. Bite it, and the secret will become yours—or it will become you.
   Hollow cost: The tree remembers your face. The next time you break a promise, the orchard will send a branch to claim you (GM may spend 2 SB to have a tree spirit attack).

10. Mill Token [UTILITY] [ONGOING]
    The wheel turns at any hour, grain or rumor ground.
    The token is a millstone chip. Feed it to the wheel, and it will grind anything—truths included.
    Hollow cost: The mill grinds memories, not grain. Feeding it a truth (a secret) allows you to clear 1 Corruption, but the truth becomes known to the Hollow. The GM gains a String on the truth.

11. Apple-Matron’s Blessing [PROTECTION] [ONCE]
    Hands help unseen when you ask no coin.
    The blessing is a cup. Pour it out in trouble, and the fields will send rain—or roots.
    Hollow cost: The fields remember. After use, the next time you camp on Aelaerem land, the grass will whisper your secrets to the Hollow (GM gains 1 SB per PC).

12. Private Moot Under the Oak [JUSTICE] [ONCE]
    Elders hear you alone; precedent sticks.
    The moot is held at midnight. The oak’s roots are the jury.
    Hollow cost: The oak’s judgment is binding. If you break it, the oak will add a nail for you. Start a Grudge of the Oak [4]. When full, the oak sends a root to drag you underground.

13. Thresher-King’s Guard [ESCORT] [FEAR]
    Six red-hooded harvesters escort you; doors open.
    Their hoods are the color of dried blood. They do not speak.
    Hollow cost: The harvesters are bound to the Hollow Field. After the escort, one of them will follow you until you pay a tithe (1 Supply or a story). Refusal ticks Hollow Attention +2.

14. Pale Shepherd’s Clause [IMMUNITY] [ONCE]
    Once, the Hollow will not notice you; pass uncounted.
    The clause is a silence. The Hollow will step aside—and will remember that it did.
    Hollow cost: The Hollow will remember your face. After use, tick Hollow Attention +0 (the timer does not advance, but the GM gains a permanent String on you). The clause can only be used once per character per campaign.

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 (blessings/tokens/host-rights) that change position rather than call for a roll.

• If any A appears, echo Hearth & Hollow motifs—quiet bells, red thread, watch-geese, footsteps under the soil—so the dread feels woven through the hedges.

• Track the Hollow Attention [8] timer as a campaign-wide pressure. Use the Hollow Walks table when it reaches 8.

Additional Features

• Bread & Lantern: Presenting a guest-loaf and a lit lantern at a threshold shifts your next social action one step safer while you remain a guest of that hearth. The lantern must be lit from the host’s fire.

• Neighborly Courtesies: When you keep local taboos (count “eight-and-one,” turn village stones inward, leave butter at cup-marks), cancel the first SB generated by rites or negotiations in that scene.

• Listen at the Stile: A quiet pause at a stile, barrow, or hedge-tunnel yields a true omen—ask one short question about what the Hollow wants here and now; the answer arrives as a sign, a sound, or a small animal.

Lore Echoes (Cross-Expansion Hooks)

• The Sealed Gate: Some Aelaerem thresholds are marked with a nail from the Sealed Gate’s original shrines. A door with such a nail can be barred against any spirit for one night—but the nail must be removed before dawn, or the door will never open again.

• The Savage Heart: In the deepest hollows, the Hollow is said to wear a bear’s shape during the winter famine. Hedge-keepers leave raw meat at the boundary, not as an offering but as a treaty: “Eat this, not our children.”

• The Traveler: Lantern-wardens sometimes find a gray pilgrim waiting at a stile at dusk. The pilgrim asks for directions to a village that no longer exists. Those who answer truthfully find that the next road they walk is half as long.

• The Clockwork Monad: Aeler engineers tried to map the hedge-tunnel lanes using breath-bonds and brass chains. The surveyors reported that the lanes would not hold still. The maps were burned. The Aelaerem still smile when asked about it.

• Ikasha, She Who Sleeps: The Hollow is sometimes called Ikasha’s shadow—the part of her that did not fall asleep. Aelaerem children are taught never to whisper the name of the dreamer before bed, lest the Hollow mistake them for a messenger.

• The Ninth: On the ninth night of a feast, the empty chair is left for the Hollow. If a guest sits in it, the Hollow will take their place at the table. The feast will continue, but the guest will never be full again.

Aelaerem Superstitions (burn for +1 die once)

• Bread to the Barrow: Crumble a crust at a cup-mark stone. Ignore the first Hive-Swarm penalty.

• Knot the Ribbon: Tie a single knot in a red thread at a threshold. Cancel Out-of-Season Mumming or take –1 die on your next festival roll (your choice).

• Name to the Hollow: Whisper a dead person’s name into an empty chair. Gain +1 Effect when invoking guest-right this scene, but mark Obligation to the Pale Shepherd.

The Aelaerem weave their power through careful observance and small courtesies. Their magic lies not in grand gestures but in the precise attention to thresholds, seasons, and the proper ordering of things. Red thread binds more than wounds—it ties names to places, promises to people, and the living to the Hollow that walks beneath their feet. To offend a hedge-witch is to invite the Neighbors’ attention; to earn an elder’s blessing is to walk with the earth’s favor.

Thematic SB Spend Table

Minor Complications (1 SB)

• Exposure: Your actions draw unwanted attention from wardens or hedge-keepers.

• Noise: Sounds of your actions alert nearby watch-geese or mummers.

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

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

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

Moderate Setbacks (2 SB)

• Alarm Raised: Orchard reeve or lantern-warden becomes aware and begins responding.

• Position Lost: You lose advantageous ground/cover/stealth due to fog or threshold shift.

• Foe Appears: A scarecrow or Hollow spirit 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 wold-wardens, mummers, or Neighbors arrive.

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

• Major Twist: The situation fundamentally changes - taboo broken/geese turn/Hollow stirs.

• 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: Apple-Matron, Thresher-King, or Pale Shepherd intervenes.

• Scene Shift: The environment changes dramatically - fog thickens/barrow opens/Hollow walks.

• 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

• Aelaerem (Hearth & Hollow): Quiet bells toll for no reason; red thread appears tied to your belongings; watch-geese honk warnings in the night.

• Aelaerem (Threshold Magic): A door you passed through earlier now leads somewhere else; your shadow walks behind you instead of beside you.

• Aelaerem (Folk Customs): You forget a crucial local taboo and offend the Neighbors; small things begin to go wrong—milk sours, knots loosen, a child points at the empty chair.

Boss Archetypes in Aelaerem

• The Scarecrow Regent (Omen/Threshold) — A hedge-raised guardian wearing twelve charms and one wrong knot. Phases: Stare of the Lane → Scare the Crows → Harvest of Faces. Cracks: a Guest-Loaf offered to its post; a Mummers’ License to wear a mask it cannot read.

• The Hollow Bride (Otherworld/Hospitality) — A Neighbor wearing a borrowed name and wedding veil. Phases: Invitation Drifted → Feast of Shadows → Ninth Cup Poured. Cracks: a Shepherd’s Whistle to call the dogs that guard the threshold; a Lantern-Writ to see her true face.

• Lantern Bailiff of the Moot (Justice/Order) — Enforcer of hedge-law with warrant-nails and bell-keys. Phases: Lantern Law → Midnight Moot → Binding Geas. Cracks: a Cider-Mark to buy a night’s silence; a Moot Oak bench to appeal his ruling.

• Beekeeper of Winter Church (Sacred/Whisper) — Keeper of cold honey and sleeping hymns. Phases: Swarm Omen → Waxed Vow → Memory Tithe. Cracks: a Bee-Queen Share to call her swarm to heel; a Lantern lit from a winter church candle.

Faction Entanglements

• Wold-Wardens: Honor hedge-law (count stiles, turn stones inward) or suffer +1 SB on each night march; bringing steel disputes to the Moot Oak reduces the next travel DV by 1.

• Mummers’ Companies: Travel under mask grants advantage crossing parochial borders; anger them (perform out of season) and village gates close at dusk (Position –).

• Lantern-Wardens: Donate oil or heal lamps to earn an escort marker; ignore a lit-lane and pay a “darkness toll” (first Stealth/Scout roll each night suffers –1 die).

• Apple-Matron Circles: Feast-days open barns and purses; snub an invitation and local prices double until amends are made.

• Neighbors (quiet powers): Leave butter at cup-marks to cancel the first supernatural SB this leg; break taboo and the Hollow stirs (add a Hollow Attention tick).

Cross-Regional Ties

• Aeler Soft-Power: Red-thread guest-right and courtesies are fashionable among Aeler houses; reputation for keeping hearth-law grants +1 die to parley with Aeler stewards and toll-clerks.

• Kahfagian Sea-Lanes: Beeswax, cider-brandy, and wool ride river-to-coast. Storm seasons push Kahfagian factors inland—good silver, stricter contracts.

• Way of Silk Spurs: Caravans detour across the downs for night-safe lanes under lantern law; counterfeit guest-loaf tokens discovered here echo as distrust along Silk waystations (Social DV +1 until cleared).

• Valewood Fallout (North): Moon-sap and dream pollen drift on certain winds: chalk mazes misalign, barrow-whispers grow bold. When Valewood Weather is in effect, the first night omen is always true (good or ill).

Encounter Seeds (Quick Hooks)

• The Hollow Bride’s Invitation: A wedding invitation arrives at the inn. The bride is not from any village on the map. The groom has not been seen in a week. The ninth chair at the feast is already occupied.

• The Scarecrow’s Harvest: Crows are building a nest on the scarecrow’s shoulder. Inside the nest is a key. The key opens a door that should not exist.

• The Beekeeper’s Tithe: The winter church’s bees have stopped producing honey. They are producing wax effigies of the PCs. The beekeeper wants to know why.

The Valewood

Empire Under Leaves.

The forest here remembers empires that crumbled to dust, and its laws are older than your kingdoms. To walk these paths is to enter into covenant with powers that measure time in seasons, not years.

I am a Pathweaver. My cord has eight knots. The ninth is the one she never ties.

The Valewood isn’t just ancient—it’s a graveyard of empires, and oh, how the Lethai-ar ghosts love a good deal on forgotten magic. They don’t just rule as echoes; they trade in them. The air hums with half-remembered songs, and the ruins bleed their mysteries into root and stream. Fae courts linger in clearings that shift with moonlight, beast-kin patrol moss-choked cairns, and echoes of imperial shades still march patrols on vanished streets.

The Hazel Queen speaks only in conditional tense. The Alder King’s crown is a noose of thorns. The Huntsman’s face is a stag’s skull, and his voice is the wind in the leaves. The forest does not forgive arrogance. It expects humility, patience, and the willingness to trade a piece of yourself for safe passage.

Never eat the fruit of a tree that has a face. The forest does not forget its debtors, and the first bite is always the price of admission. The second bite is the interest.

— Pathweaver Sila, who knows every star-road but will not speak their names

What do people eat for breakfast? Acorn bread and wild honey—the acorns are leached in stream-water for three days, the honey is taken from hives in the high branches. The bees are sacred. The bees are not to be harmed. A beekeeper who harms a bee is cursed. The curse is the stinging. The stinging is endless.

What does a child learn before they can walk? To name the trees. Valewood children are taught the names of the eight sacred groves: Hazel, Alder, Oak, Rowan, Ash, Thorn, Yew, and the ninth—the one that has no name. The ninth grove is where the Hollow sleeps. The Hollow is not to be woken.

What is the first thing you notice about a stranger? Their way-cord. Every Valewood traveler carries a knotted cord—one knot for each mile they have walked. A stranger whose cord has nine knots has walked the forbidden path. A stranger whose cord is knotted with red thread is a Pathweaver. A stranger with no cord has no way. The forest will find them. The forest will lead them in circles until they forget why they came.

What is the most common crime? Breaking the star-road—but the star-roads are not roads, they are agreements. A traveler who strays from the path is a traveler who breaks the covenant. The covenant is older than the Valewood. The covenant was made between the first trees and the first stars. The stars do not forgive. The trees do not forget.

What does no one talk about but everyone knows? The Hazel Queen is not the queen. She is the voice of the forest—a title that passes from dryad to dryad with each turning of the season. The current Queen has held the title for three centuries. She is not a dryad. She is a ghost—the last survivor of the empire that fell beneath the leaves. She remembers the cities. She remembers the stones. She remembers the names of the dead. The dead do not remember her.

Where do people go when they die? To the star-roads—the paths that lead between the trees and between the worlds. The dead are not buried. They are laid on stone altars at the edges of the groves. The stars pull them upward. The trees pull them downward. The dead choose. The dead always choose the trees. The trees remember.

How do you apologize for a serious wrong? You offer a name—your own or another’s. The forest accepts the name. The forest weaves it into the bark of the oldest oak. The oak is called the Witness. The Witness has stood for nine thousand years. The Witness has never forgotten a single name. The Witness will not forget yours.

What is the most important festival? The Turning of the Leaves (autumn). The trees shed their colors in a single day. The leaves carpet the forest floor. The leaves are gathered and burned in the high clearings. The smoke carries the year’s debts to the stars. The stars answer with light. The light is forgiveness. The light is also a warning.

What is the secret that could destroy a powerful person? The Alder King is not a king. He is the forest’s warden—a title passed from fallen empire to fallen empire. The current King is a Lethai-ar who was born in the year the last empire fell. He has not aged since. He does not eat. He does not drink. He does not sleep. He walks the star-roads at night. The star-roads are empty. The dead have stopped walking.

Valewood — “Empire Under Leaves”

Key Demographics: Lethai-al

Entanglements

To the West:

Mistlands – The Direwood’s breath crosses the water; the bell-lines are the only thing keeping the forest from expanding. A fog that smells of honey is a warning from the fae.

To the North:

Linns – The Thin Coast portage brings iron and salt; the trees remember the old hunts. The forest’s edge is a border that moves.

To the South West:

Zakov (via Thin Coast) – Pirates and smugglers trade in star-road shards; the coast is a dangerous threshold. The Gray Lady’s agents watch the treeline.

To the South:

Aelinnel / Aelaerem – The fae courts and the gnomes share a border of thorn and courtesy; the Green Gate is a two-way door. The Hazel Queen and the Stone Prince exchange warnings, not gifts.

Quick Reference

Tagline: The forest remembers. Speak truth, step lightly, and never eat the fruit of a tree with a face.

Hazel Queen (Elite): “The forest here remembers empires that crumbled to dust, and its laws are older than your kingdoms. To walk these paths is to enter into covenant with powers that measure time in seasons, not years.”

Pathweaver (Commoner): “The woods here got a mind of their own – they’ll lead you where you need to go if you ask right, but they’ll just as soon lose you if you’re carrying ill intent. Best know which is which before you wander off the path.”

Genre / Mood: Dark forest, fey remnant, imperial echo, folk horror.

Starting Location: A moss-covered amphitheater where roots crawl through marble benches and owls whisper verdicts to the wind. An Owl-Sister speaks in riddles: “The Lethai-ar stir. The paths remember your true name. Speak it into the hollow of this stone, or the forest will learn it from your footsteps.”

The Valewood is older than kingdoms, older than the maps that skirt its borders. Beneath its canopy lie the bones of a Lethai empire whose name is forgotten, its towers swallowed by vine and root, its star-roads cracked and phasing between worlds. The air hums with half-remembered songs of magic, and the ruins bleed their mysteries into root and stream. To walk the Valewood is to risk being claimed by it: as guest, prey, heir—or trespasser.

But the empire did not fall to war or plague alone. In their final centuries, the Lethai-thora — the high elf archivists and sorcerers — grew desperate to match the Astroegro Empire’s arcane might. They turned to forbidden arts: flesh-shaping, soul-stitching, and the binding of patterns that should never have been woven. Deep beneath the Amber Ziggurat, in chambers sealed with runes that weep, they built the Genesis Vats. Here, elf and beast were combined, spirit and stone were fused, and the first beast-kin were born — not as servants, but as weapons. The vats still hum. The failures, the half-finished, the screaming ones, were loosed into the forest when the laboratories collapsed. They bred true. They became the monsters that now stalk the star-roads: the redcaps, the thorn-walkers, the things with too many eyes.

The empire fell, yes. But something else came through the cracks. A scent of honey and rot. A laugh from a clearing that should not exist. The Lethai-thora sealed the deepest laboratories and burned their records. The few survivors spoke of a “soft place” in the world’s fabric, a realm of endless twilight where the fae had always waited. They carved warnings into stone: Do not open the ninth gate. Do not sing the song that calls them. The gates were sealed. The songs were forgotten. But the forest remembers. And in certain clearings, when the moon is wrong, the air smells of jasmine and grave-soil.

What you notice first: The smell of wet moss and old stone. The way the light filters through leaves like stained glass. The silence that falls when you speak a name too loudly.

The one rule that kills newcomers: Never eat the fruit of a tree that has a face. The forest does not forget those who take, and the first bite is always a promise.

Regional Mood: Leaves, Oaths, and Echoes

Here, the past is not past — it phases in and out like moonlight on water. The Lethai-ar who remain are not conquerors but custodians, tending to laws written before the first human kingdom rose. The fae courts of Hazel and Alder play their endless games of courtesy and obligation, and the beast-kin speak in parliaments where every vote is a scent. Imperial shades march through walls that no longer exist, and the star-roads hum with geometries that twist the unwary into yesterday.

But the true horror lies beneath. The Lethai-thora’s experiments left scars that never healed. The beast-kin are not a single people — they are the descendants of those who survived the vats, their lineages mixed with wild creatures, their memories fragmented. Some still hear the whispers of the old laboratories, calling them to seek the sealed doors. Others have built a society of scent and scar, their laws a deliberate forgetting of what they once were. The monsters — the true monsters, the ones with no parliament — are the failed experiments: the redcaps, the thorn-walkers, the things that hunger for warmth. They are the empire’s unfinished business.

And somewhere, in a place where the trees grow in impossible spirals, the soft place still breathes. The fae courts are its children. They do not speak of what lies beyond the ninth gate. They only smile, and their smiles have too many teeth.

The Ninth Taboo Manifestation

In the Valewood, the ninth leaf to fall from any tree points to a hidden threshold. The wise catch it or pretend not to see. Those who follow the leaf’s direction find a place that was not there a moment ago, and something old waits inside. The threshold may lead to a sealed laboratory, a fae court, or a clearing where the air smells of jasmine and grave-soil. It is always warm.

Prominent NPCs of the Valewood

Names of the Valewood

Inspired by the old Lethai language and the fae courts: flowing vowels, soft consonants, and names that feel like they belong to a forgotten song.

(Phasing Ruin/Star-Road/Living Stone)

Star-road shard with pale flagstones that hum when trod in sequence; rooted amphitheater with moss-seats remembering speeches.

Spades — Places

2. Star-Road Shard — Pale flagstones hum when trod in sequence; a path between worlds. ‘[MAGIC]‘ The sequence is always incomplete. The missing step is the one you hesitate to take.

3. Rooted Amphitheater — Moss-seats remember speeches not yet given; a stage for fate. ‘[SOCIAL]‘ Sit in the high seat, and the roots will ask you a question. Answer wrong, and you may never stand.

4. Moon-Cistern — Reflecting sky that isn’t tonight’s; water as a mirror of truth. ‘[MAGIC]‘ ‘[TRUTH]‘ The reflection shows what you lost, not what you carry. Look away before it names you.

5. Glyphed Bridge — Across a dry stream; glyphs glow when lies pass; truth as your passage. ‘[TRUTH]‘ ‘[TRAVEL]‘ The bridge has no railings. Liars fall—into the stream, or into memory.

6. Glassleaf Gallery — Boughs grown into panes, dust like constellations; beauty as a barrier. ‘[MAGIC]‘ The dust is crushed star-road. Breathe it, and you will dream of the empire’s fall.

7. Hollow Aqueduct — Water runs uphill if the song is right; magic in the melody. ‘[MAGIC]‘ The song has eight verses. The ninth is the silence that follows.

8. Calendar Grove — Standing-trees aligned to solstices; one trunk is stone; time as architecture. ‘[RITUAL]‘ The stone tree bleeds sap once a year. Collect it, and the forest remembers your name for a season.

9. Unfound Arcade — Arches appear at dusk, vanish at dawn; reality as a schedule. ‘[MYSTERY]‘ The arches have names—carved on the inside. You must walk through to read them.

10. Breathing City — Vine-choked streets shift on the hour; a ruin as a living thing. ‘[DUNGEON]‘ The vines pulse with a slow heartbeat. The city is sleeping, not dead.

11. Amber Ziggurat — Caught mid-construction for a thousand years; time as an artifact. ‘[LEGEND]‘ The workers are statues of amber. Their eyes follow you. Beneath it, the Genesis Vats still hum.

12. Ivory Observatory — Brass orrery tracks two lost moons; the sky as memory. ‘[MAGIC]‘ The moons are not in any sky you know. One of them is yours. One of them is a door.

13. Throne-Bower — Living alder and argent wire; the seat of forgotten power. ‘[AUTHORITY]‘ Sit here, and the forest will crown you—or crush you. You won’t know which until the leaves settle.

14. Valeheart Spire — The empire’s axle; stairs that end where they began. ‘[LEGEND]‘ The spire has no top. It has only a center. Finding it is the journey.

(Lethai-ar/Fae/Beast-kin)

Pathweaver who knots safe routes into cord; fox-headed courier with a promise braided into its tail.

Hearts — People & Factions

2. Pathweaver — Lethai-ar guide who knots safe routes into cord; navigation as community. ‘[SOCIAL]‘ Her cord has eight knots. The ninth is the one she never ties.

3. Fox-Courier — Promise braided into its tail; messages as living things. ‘[SOCIAL]‘ It will deliver anything—but asks something in return. What it asks is always a secret.

4. Owl-Sister — Pupils show yesterday; her hands show yours; sight as prophecy. ‘[MAGIC]‘ She never blinks. If she does, the future has changed.

5. Antler-Hunter — Sworn to keep the cities sleeping; a guardian of rest. ‘[COMBAT]‘ His spear is a sharpened root. It grows back when broken.

6. Moss-Scribe — Writes deeds in lichen, reads stone like vellum; law as growth. ‘[LAW]‘ Her ink is rainwater and regret. The words fade when the promise is kept.

7. Lark-Keeper — Caged bird sings warnings strangers can’t hear; danger as song. ‘[OMEN]‘ The lark’s song is a map. Learn it, and you can walk anywhere—once.

8. Green Neighbor — Fae courtier wearing a borrowed smile and boots; hospitality as a trap. ‘[FAE]‘ Never accept a gift from a Green Neighbor. It’s never a gift.

9. Warden-Coterie — Beast-kin (badger, stag, lynx); one law: no digging deep. ‘[COMMUNITY]‘ They speak in growls and gestures. The lynx is the one who remembers faces. They do not speak of the vats.

10. Echo-Legionary — Imperial shade bound to a patrol that never ends; duty as a curse. ‘[DEATH]‘ Its sword passes through stone but not through flesh. Run, don’t fight.

11. Shardwright — Ancient artisan who wakes star-road with a chisel; craft as resurrection. ‘[CRAFT]‘ Her chisel is a tooth from the first dragon. She stole it. She has seen the sealed doors. She will not speak of them.

12. Hazel Queen — AKA Mab, Lethai-al sovereign in leaf and law; wisdom as authority. ‘[AUTHORITY]‘ She has never spoken a lie. She has never needed to. Her court sings of a door that should stay closed.

13. Alder King — AKA Grimmir, Twilit Court sovereign in shadow and promise; power as obligation. ‘[AUTHORITY]‘ His crown is a noose of thorns. He wears it proudly. He knows what came through the door. He will not say.

14. The Genesis Keeper (Ghost) — A shimmer of heat, speaking in equations. ‘[DEATH]‘ ‘[SPIRIT]‘ She was an archivist who sealed the vats. She has been trying to finish the equation for a thousand years. It is almost complete.

(Glamour/Ward-Trap/Imperial Residue)

Sweet wind nudges landmarks hedge-width—enough to matter; path reverses—footprints vote to go elsewhere.

Clubs — Complications/Threats

2. Sweet Wind — Nudges landmarks hedge-width—enough to matter; navigation as deception. ‘[WEATHER]‘ ‘[TRICK]‘ The wind smells of honey and lies. Do not trust your nose.

3. Path Reversal — Footprints vote to go elsewhere; direction as democracy. ‘[MAGIC]‘ Your tracks point the way you came—even when you haven’t turned.

4. Ward-Trap — Ancient security treats you as yesterday’s invader; the past as prison. ‘[TRAP]‘ The glyphs were set by a dead queen. She still enforces her grudges.

5. Oath-Magnet — Spoken promises stick and reshape plans; word as binding magic. ‘[OATH]‘ Every “I will” becomes a knot. Every “I won’t” becomes a chain.

   When a character makes a promise in the Valewood, the GM creates a Promise Timer [4]. Each time the character acts against that promise (or fails to act in its favor), tick the timer. When it fills, the forest claims a piece of you: 1 Fatigue, a lost memory (erase a minor fact or face), or a minor geas (the GM chooses). Breaking a promise intentionally (not through failure) instantly ticks the timer twice.

6. Geas Catch — A careless word triggers a task that names itself; speech as summoning. ‘[OATH]‘ You said “if only.” Now the forest has heard you.

7. City Phase — Streets rotate; the exit becomes a balcony; space as puzzle. ‘[DUNGEON]‘ The city breathes. You are in its lungs.

8. Name-Theft — Something learns your true name’s edges; the tests begin. ‘[DEATH]‘ ‘[FEAR]‘ First, you forget a minor bond. Then a friend’s face. Then your own.

   When Name-Theft occurs, the GM secretly records one piece of the target’s identity (a memory, a bond, a talent name). The target suffers  − 1 die on any roll that would rely on that piece until it is restored by a quest or a bargain with the thief (often a fae or shade).

9. Ring Claim — A circle names you host; feeding guests becomes law. ‘[SOCIAL]‘ ‘[COMMUNITY]‘ The mushrooms are listening. They will remember what you serve.

10. Mirror Rain — Leaf-drips replay choices you didn’t make; the past as echo. ‘[MAGIC]‘ The rain shows you a path you refused. Now it offers it again—with weight.

11. Redcaps Abroad — Hats wet, boots quick, courtesies thin; violence as hospitality. ‘[COMBAT]‘ ‘[FAE]‘ They will ask for a kiss or a coin. Refuse, and they take both. Their boots are stained with the blood of failed experiments.

12. Court Claim — Truth, song, or memory you’d miss; the cost is sacrifice. ‘[SOCIAL]‘ ‘[OATH]‘ The courtier opens its hand. What you place there is never returned.

13. Muster of Boughs — Green banners rise; travel becomes trespass. ‘[WAR]‘ ‘[FEAR]‘ The boughs bear old sigils. The war they remember ended a thousand years ago.

14. Empire Wakes — A district aligns; doors open, guardians open farther. ‘[APOCALYPSE]‘ The shades have orders. You are the target. Beneath the city, a vat cracks.

(Charm/Key/Truce-Bough)

Way-cord knot points to the true next turn; dew-mirror shows a thing as it is, not as it is sung.

Diamonds — Rewards/Leverage

2. Way-Cord — A knot points to the true next turn (once); navigation as a gift. ‘[TRAVEL]‘ The knot is a breath tied in silk. Untie it to find your way—or to lose it forever.

3. Dew-Mirror — See a thing as it is, not as it is sung, for one scene; truth as a tool. ‘[TRUTH]‘ The mirror is a drop of water on a leaf. It dries when the lie dies.

4. Hazel Token — Lawful crossing of a warded hedge without snag; permission as paper. ‘[TRAVEL]‘ The token is a hazelnut. Crack it open; the kernel is your password.

5. Honey-Right — Eat and speak safely at any bee-stone ring; hospitality as law. ‘[SOCIAL]‘ The honey is golden. Taste it, and the bees will know you as a guest—once.

6. Name-Bead — A kept promise warms; a broken one chills and glows; an oath as a magic item. ‘[OATH]‘ The bead is warm in your palm. If it cools, you have forgotten someone.

7. Wind-Veil — Mute a sweet wind’s lies for a short walk; truth as protection. ‘[WEATHER]‘ The veil is a scrap of silk. Breathe through it, and the wind cannot speak.

8. City-Shard — Wake one gate or stair in a phasing ruin; a key as a catalyst. ‘[MAGIC]‘ The shard is a piece of a star-road. Hold it to the lock, and the ruin answers.

9. Truce-Bough — Hunt, cut, or camp without offense in a named copse; peace as a branch. ‘[SOCIAL]‘ The bough is green. Plant it in the ground, and the forest will not harm you—or help you.

10. Oathsap — Seal a pact that even echoes respect; a promise as a binding force. ‘[OATH]‘ The sap is warm. Drink it, and your words become stone—for good or ill.

11. Shardwright’s Favor — Repair or light a length of star-road; craft as power. ‘[CRAFT]‘ The favor is a chip of amber. The Shardwright will come when you break it.

12. Hazel Audience — One whisper exits as policy; word as law. ‘[AUTHORITY]‘ The audience is a leaf. Speak into its spine, and the Hazel Queen will listen—once.

13. Alder Writ — Levies defer, wardens guide, scribes stop arguing; authority as writ. ‘[AUTHORITY]‘ The writ is a thorn. Carry it in your boot, and those bound to the Alder King will make way.

14. Valeheart Clause — A temporary exception to any local rule, spoken in leaves. ‘[LEGEND]‘ The clause is a rustle. The forest will pretend it didn’t hear—but it will remember.

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 (charms/keys/passes) that change position rather than call for a roll.

• Empire Echo: when a J/Q/K is the highest rank in your seed, add one visible relic-logic (floating stairs, singing locks, patrol shades).

• If any A appears, echo leaf and light motifs—paths that remember, leaves that whisper, light that moves like water.

Thematic SB Spend Table

Minor Complications (1 SB)

• Exposure: Your actions draw attention from fae courtiers or beast-kin sentinels.

• Noise: A rustle of leaves, a snapped twig, or a whispered word alerts nearby imperial shades.

• Trace: Footprints on moss or disturbed lichen mark your passage for trackers.

• Delay: A path reroutes, a bridge phases out, or a talking tree demands a riddle.

• Supply Strain: Mark +1 segment on a relevant resource timer (food, light, memory).

Moderate Setbacks (2 SB)

• Alarm Raised: A Green Neighbor or an Owl-Sister becomes aware and begins a hunt.

• Position Lost: Glamour fog or a sudden star-road shift costs you advantageous ground.

• Foe Appears: A redcap, a thorn-walker, or a patchwork horror arrives.

• Gear Trouble: A way-cord tangles, a dew-mirror cracks, a city-shard goes dark.

• Oath Strain: A promise you made in the forest begins to tighten (tick a Promise Timer ).

Serious Trouble (3 SB)

• Reinforcements: Additional fae courtiers, beast-kin, or imperial shades arrive.

• Key Gear Breaks: A star-road shard crumbles, a truce-bough wilts, a name-bead cools permanently.

• Major Twist: A sealed door opens, a vat leaks, the Hazel Queen revokes a protection.

• Rail Tick: Advance a relevant campaign/front timer by 1 segment (e.g., Forest Waking, Court Schism).

• Condition Applied: Mark Fatigue 1, Harm 1, or a condition (Geas-Touched, Name-Threaded).

Major Turns (4+ SB)

• Trap Springs: A ward-trap activates, a star-road collapses, or a Genesis Vat failure emerges.

• Authority Arrival: The Hazel Queen, the Alder King, or the Huntsman intervenes.

• Scene Shift: The environment changes dramatically—a city phases in, a grove burns, the moon turns red.

• Patron Omen: A fae omen appears (a singing stone, a weeping statue, a leaf that falls upward).

• Narrative Pivot: The story reframes—the sealed door was a trap, the beast-kin are not the enemy, the soft place is already here.

Pursuit Ladder (Near / Mid / Far)

• Advance/Withdraw (Wits + Lore): On a hit, shift one band. On a strong hit, also impose Leaf Blind (pursuers lose scent).

• Cut the Star-Road (Presence + Lore): On a hit, freeze range for one exchange; if a way-cord is in your possession, +1 die.

• Weather the Glamour (Endurance + Spirit): On a hit in Sweet Wind or Name-Theft, you pick who keeps their bearings; on a miss, the GM does.

Boss Seeds (three-phase foes)

• The Unsealed (Genesis Vat Horror) — Phases: Leak → Gestation → Unmaking. Cracks: seal the vat with a shardwright’s favor, offer a memory to the Genesis Keeper, or collapse the Amber Ziggurat’s keystone.

• The Thorn-King (Fae Usurper) — Phases: Courtesy → Claim → Crown. Cracks: refuse three gifts, name his true origin (a failed beast-kin), or burn the ninth grove.

• The Echo-Emperor (Imperial Shade) — Phases: March → Patrol → Reckoning. Cracks: perform the unfinished legionary oath, return a lost standard, or remind him of the empire’s fall.

Extensions (Plug-in)

• Star-Road Phase Timer [6]: Tracks how often ancient roads realign. Tick when the party lingers or uses magic. At 4, navigation becomes Desperate; at 6, the road leads to the Amber Ziggurat.

• Genesis Vat Leak Timer [8]: Advances when the party disturbs sealed chambers or fails Spirit rolls near ruins. At 4, strange noises and whispers; at 8, a vat-born horror awakens (use Boss Seed).

• Favor of the Courts: Earn Hazel Favor (by keeping promises) or Alder Favor (by collecting debts). Spend 3 favor to call a minor boon (safe passage, a single truthful answer from a fae).

Artifacts of the Valewood

• Leaf of the First Tree: A fossilised leaf that never crumbles. Once per session, reroll a failed promise-related roll. After nine uses, it turns to dust and the Hollow gains a name.

• The Genesis Key: A brass tuning fork that can open any sealed vat door, but each use ticks the Vat Leak timer by +1.

• Mirror of Unfinished Faces: Shows not your reflection but the unfinished beast-kin you would have become. Use to intimidate fae (+1 die) but mark 1 Corruption.

Additional Features

• Forest Claims: Any oath, bargain, or gift exchanged binds with more weight. Once per session, a spoken promise becomes magically enforceable: breaking it creates 1d4 SB and echoes through scenes.

• Ruins Awaken: If you linger at an ancient site, roll or draw to see which mechanism stirs. May grant guidance (lit star-road, a memory shown) or danger (patrol shades, collapsing glyphs).

• Court Interference: Encounters with fae or beast-kin are never neutral. Once per session, the GM may convert a Diamond into a demand for hospitality, tribute, or alliance—shifting the expedition’s tone.

• Genesis Vats Aftermath: Any scene set in the deep ruins (Amber Ziggurat, Breathing City lower levels) has a chance to trigger a Vat Leak complication. Roll 1d6; on a 1–2, a failed experiment emerges (a redcap, a thorn-walker, or a patchwork horror). On a 3–4, a ghost of a Lethai-thora archivist appears and offers a bargain. On a 5–6, the party finds a sealed door. The door is warm.

• Local Patrons (Syncretic Names):

  • The Unseen Court — The Witness. A parliament of silent roots that remembers every broken promise.

  • The Root-King — The Alder King (local aspect). Promise that grows like a vine, choked by its own leaves.

  • The Star-Weaver — The Ninth. The missing thread in every star-road, the silence after the song.

  • The Green Saint — Oath of Flame & Light (syncretic). A martyr who fed her own name to the Hollow to seal a breach.

  • The Vat-Keeper — The Clockwork Monad (apocalyptic aspect). The pressure to perfect, to optimize, to finish the work.

Forest Mood (d6 per scene)

1. Hazel’s Favor – Paths open willingly.  + 1 die to navigation rolls this scene.

2. Alder’s Hunger – A claim is made. Someone in the scene must offer a memory or service to proceed.

3. Empire Wakes – A patrol of imperial shades marches through. Avoid or leave something behind (1 Fatigue or a secret).

4. Beast-kin Moot – Animals gather and watch. They will not attack unless provoked, but they remember faces.

5. Sweet Wind – All navigation rolls suffer  − 1 die; landmarks shift subtly.

6. Green Gate Breath – A threshold appears. Crossing it leads to a different part of the forest (or a different time). The air smells of jasmine and rot.

Star-Road Discovery (d6)

When the party encounters a star-road shard or attempts to wake a segment, roll on this table for an additional feature:

1. Singing Stones – The flagstones hum a tune. Anyone who sings along gains  + 1 die on the next roll.

2. Echo of an Emperor – A ghostly figure appears and asks a riddle. A correct answer grants a City-Shard.

3. Fractured Timeline – The road shows a glimpse of the future (1d6 scenes ahead). The GM must answer one yes/no question truthfully.

4. Ward-Trap – The segment is booby-trapped. Trigger a Ward-Trap complication (see Clubs).

5. Shardwright’s Cache – Hidden nearby is a Shardwright’s Favor (Diamond) or a rare component (e.g., amber shard).

6. The Ninth Step – The sequence has a hidden ninth stone. Stepping on it teleports the party to a Valeheart Spire or a court audience. The air tastes of honey.

Beast-kin Traits (for NPCs or PC ancestry)

Beast-kin are not a single species but a loose alliance of animal-aspected beings — the descendants of the Genesis Vats. Use these traits for quick NPCs or optional player characters.

• Scent Memory:  + 1 die to track a creature you have smelled before.

• Parliament Oath: Once per session, you may invoke the beast-kin moot to ask a local animal one simple question (the GM answers truthfully).

• Claw or Fang: Unarmed strikes deal Harm 1 and count as Light weapons.

• Vat Legacy: You have a fragment of a forgotten memory — a laboratory, a screaming face, a promise of perfection. Once per session, you may roll Spirit + Lore (DV 3) to recall a clue about a ruin or a monster’s weakness. On a failure, the memory causes you 1 Fatigue.

• Optional: Choose a lineage:

  • Stag:  + 1 die to resist being moved or knocked prone.

  • Lynx:  + 1 die to stealth in forest terrain.

  • Badger: You may burrow through loose earth at half speed.

Lore Echoes (Cross-Expansion Hooks)

• The Genesis Vats (The Clockwork Monad): Deep beneath the Amber Ziggurat lie the empire’s failed laboratories. Here, the Lethai ancients combined elf and beast, hoping to create the perfect guardian — to match the Astroegro’s engines of war. The vats still hum, and the beast-kin who survived do not speak of what they saw. The Shardwrights say the Monad’s pressure is still optimizing the old designs, and that one day the vats will open again. When they do, the soft place will breathe deeper.

• The Parliament of Claw and Fur (The Savage Heart): The beast-kin are not savages. They hold a moot once every season, deep in a clearing that no star-road touches. Their laws are carved in scent and scar, and their judgments are final. The Savage Heart speaks through their eldest, but it does not command—it suggests. Outsiders who attend the moot must bring a true name of a foe and leave it on the speaking stone. Those who lie are given fur and four legs, and are hunted at the next moon. The beast-kin do not speak of the vats. The Savage Heart remembers.

• Saint Oren of the Unfinished Star (The Ninth): A Lethai-ar astronomer who calculated the exact angle at which the empire’s star-roads would collapse. He was erased from the imperial records, but his ghost still walks the Ivory Observatory, tracing equations in starlight. Those who find him may ask one question about the forest’s hidden geometry. The answer is always a single number, and that number binds you. He was trying to close the door. He failed.

• The Gray Pilgrims (The Traveler): A wandering order of Lethai-ar who maintain the old way-cords. They wear gray cloaks woven from mist and speak only in riddles. It is said that if you give a Gray Pilgrim a lock of your hair, they will knot it into your way-cord, and you will never be lost in the Valewood again—but you will also never find a place you truly wish to leave. They know the location of the sealed doors. They will not speak of it.

• The Daughters of the Cord (The Bitter Root): A renegade Sister hides among the moss-scribes of the Rooted Amphitheater, trying to untie her own cord from the Hazel Queen’s design. She claims the queen’s hospitality is a cage, and that the forest’s memory is a trap. The Hazel Queen has not corrected her; she only smiles, and the roots grow tighter each night. The Sister whispers that the queen came through the door. No one knows if she means the door to the vats or the other door.

• The Ninth: In any Valewood scene, the ninth leaf to fall from a tree will land pointing to a hidden threshold. The wise catch it—or pretend they didn’t see. Those who follow the leaf’s direction find a place that was not there a moment ago, and something old waits inside. The threshold may lead to a sealed laboratory, a fae court, or a clearing where the air smells of jasmine. It is always warm.

Valewood Superstitions (burn for  + 1 die once)

• Bread to the Roots: Crumble a crust at the base of a standing stone. Ignore the first Sweet Wind penalty. [SUPERSTITION]

• Knot the Cord: Tie a single knot in a way-cord. Cancel Oath-Magnet or take  − 1 die on your next promise (your choice). [SUPERSTITION]

• Name to the Cistern: Whisper a dead enemy’s name into the Moon-Cistern. Gain  + 1 Effect when evading fae this scene, but mark Obligation to the Alder King. [SUPERSTITION]

• Honey to the Threshold: Leave a drop of honey on a doorframe that should not exist. The door will not open for you, but it will not open behind you either. [SUPERSTITION]

In the Valewood, power flows through ancient magic, forgotten oaths, and the delicate balance between guest and host. The Lethai-ar maintain influence through their knowledge of paths and ruins, while the fae courts wield power through hospitality and geas. Beast-kin serve as guardians of the deeper mysteries, and the echoes of the empire still patrol their eternal rounds, enforcing laws written in starlight and stone.

But beneath it all, the sealed doors wait. The fae courts are not the masters of the forest — they are its children, born from the soft place that pressed through when the empire’s experiments tore the fabric. The Lethai-thora who survived burned their records and sealed their guilt in vaults of amber and iron. The beast-kin carry the memory in their bones. The monsters are the ones who remember too clearly.

For the GM: Patronage in the Valewood revolves around hospitality, knowledge, and the careful navigation of ancient laws. Rewards often take the form of charms, keys, or safe passage that can be leveraged into greater influence. To emphasize the hidden horror:

• Tie rewards to visible symbols (tokens, mirrors, cords) that can be challenged, stolen, or voided — and that may carry a whiff of the vats.

• Let rival courts issue conflicting protections, forcing players to choose whose favor matters more — and which sealed door they are willing to approach.

• Use the ruins, groves, and star-roads as arenas for social contests, where knowledge of ancient customs determines success — and where a misstep may lead to a place that was sealed for a reason.

• Introduce the Genesis Vats Aftermath as a recurring tension. The deeper the party goes, the more they risk waking something that should sleep.

In the Valewood, your word is your world, and your world determines whether you walk as a guest or a ghost. But the ghosts are not the only things that walk. Something came through the door. It is still here.

The Lethai-al (Wood Elves)

Beneath the courtly titles and the star-road records, the true wood elves endure. They call themselves the Lethai-al—those who remain when the tower falls. They do not walk the high roads; they mend them from below, speaking to roots instead of stars. Their elders are oaks, their children are saplings, and their grievances outlast stone.

Where the Lethai-thora sought perfection and the courts seek dominion, the Lethai-al seek only reciprocity. They keep no scrolls and sign no contracts, yet nothing is given without expectation. A meal shared is a shield-pledge. A path shown is a future claimed. To them, the forest’s question is not spoken but lived: What was taken, and what will be returned? Outsiders rarely recognize the weight of these moments until the trees lean in.

The Lethai-al do not attend the parliaments of beast-kin or the audiences of Hazel. When they must speak with outsiders, they do so through intermediaries—moss-scribes, owl-sisters, or the rare gray pilgrim—so that the words are never truly theirs, and the obligation, if any, remains unrooted. They remember the sealed doors better than the archivists, for they were the ones who grew the thorns over them.

Beast-Kin Mini Generator

Roll on each table to build a beast-kin NPC or ancestry concept in moments.

Animal Stock (d6)

1. Stag or Elk

2. Lynx or Wildcat

3. Badger or Wolverine

4. Fox or Coyote

5. Owl or Raven

6. Bear or Boar

Vat Mark (d6)

1. Mismatched eyes—one animal, one elven

2. Palms scarred in spiral patterns that weep sap under moonlight

3. A pelt-patch that never stops growing; must be trimmed weekly

4. Voice carries a faint harmonic hum, as if two throats speak

5. Extra digits, clumsy but strangely lucky

6. Shadow moves a half-step slower than the body

Parliament Role (d6)

1. Sentinel: Watches borders; forgets no face.

2. Speaker: Translates scent to speech for outsiders.

3. Warden: Enforces the old scars and the laws they imply.

4. Seeker: Hears laboratory whispers; walks toward sealed doors.

5. Binder: Tends the young and the half-formed with tooth and lullaby.

6. Outcast: Refused a rite; lives alone, dangerous but fair.

Hidden Need (d6)

1. To silence a recurring dream of amber tubes and singing fluid

2. To find a sibling taken by redcaps before the last thaw

3. To burn a specific sealed door and whatever sleeps behind it

4. To earn a true name among a different parliament

5. To know whether the Hazel Queen was ever pulled from a vat

6. To repay a kindness given without condition—a rare and troubling thing