Devdanchar Art

click each image for a high resolution version

In the Time Before Time, in the Great Darkness (a couple of months ago, online) the Creator (John Payne) brought forth a world called Shayakand. It is a land shrouded in mystery. One inhabited by a great evil known as Devdanchar. As one of the content developers and artists here at Nevermet Press, I was asked to form a likeness of this evil (I get to make pictures!). A form was selected from the many that the Darkness birthed (the pencil version of a thumbnail sketch) and was given shape (the shaded image) and then life was breathed into it (the pixels were pushed around until it looked better).The Almighty Founders (Jonathan and Michael) spoke and proclaimed that this image should be made known to the world (they said to post it on the site).  It is so.

I hope you like it. Check out the link to Devdanchar’s concept and backstory and compare to the image above. There’s an important detail missing – can you spot what it is? What explanation could be given for its absence in light of the backstory? (see the secrete upside down answer below)

Let us know what you think by posting comments (even nasty ones), but know that the Mighty Founders see all (and they’ll probably delete the nasty).

Devdanchar – A Shayakand Villain

Edited by Jonathan Jacobs

Ethos

When creating Shayakand, a lot of thought went into how different the humans and other humanoid races are from traditionally European-based fantasy settings. Amongst those differences is a concept called Purusartha. According to Purusartha, the four essentials in life are:

• Kama – desire and sensual pleasure
• Artha – wealth and glory
• Dharma – doing the right thing
• Moksha – liberation from the cycle of reincarnation.

Note: Doing the right thingis a loaded phrase that will be explained in another post. For now, keep in mind that dharma in Shayakand is not exactly the same as dharma in Hinduism. The most notable difference is the lack of the non-violence principle traditionally found in Hinduism.

The average Shayakandi sees the first two principles as practical ways of life,  essentially: make money and be happy. The last two are guidelines that govern how the practical ways of life are expressed. Doing the right thing clears the mind to receive divine knowledge. Receiving enough divine knowledge allows a person to be attuned to the divine and thus escape the cycle of reincarnation. As a result, many of the excesses that can come from pursuing money, power, and pleasure are tempered with the knowledge that there is a severe consequence for a person’s actions.

For a human to be a villain, they essentially have to believe that whatever they are doing will be worth the punishment they receive in the next life. A young human might make an effective villain for some time, but as he or she ages, thoughts will inevitably turn to the next life. In other words, human bad guys will not make good villains for a long-term campaign.

However, if a creature is already free from the cycle of reincarnation, there is no check against the potential excesses of Kama and Artha. It is for this reason that many of the ‘bad guys’ in Shayakand are believed to be demons or spirits. Even the humanoid gnolls, ogres and oni are believed to be evil spirits in a fleshy shell.

Enter our villain, a rakshasa named Devdanchar. In Pathfinder terms, he is an native outsider. What places him in Shayakand is the description of a rakshasa found in it’s ecology:

They embody what is taboo among most societies, and in the shape of those it seeks to defile, a rakshasa gorges itself on these hideous acts. Were they human, these acts of cannibalism, blasphemy, and worse would mark them as criminals condemned to the cruelest of hells.

In other words, rakshasa are the sickest and most depraved creatures in a given society. Give a creature like this immense power and wealth and you have the seeds for an arch villain.

Here’s a sketch so of Devdanchar. Some details are missing, but I hope that enough is provided to give you some ideas. Tommorrow you’ll get a chance to see some artwork on Devdanchar from Rob Torno.

Villain Sketch

Devdanchar is the name of one of the most powerful landowners in the entire Shayakand region. From his seat of power in Shayakand’s largest city, Ravandre,  he controls the destinies of thousands . He owns dozens of mercantile businesses spanning almost every city, town, and watering hole in the area. With a word, he can control nearly any good or service coming in or leaving Shayakand.

For example, in Ravendre there was no rice for sale in the city for over a month. Hundreds  starved while the city bureaucracy was unable to do anything to help its citizens. As great as the tragedy was inside the city, the greater tragedy occurred with the destruction of fifty merchant ships and the slaughter of hundreds of farmers. His reasons? Devdanchar’s motives were to have a show of force in reaction to a protest over a docking fee for one of his merchant vessels.

Despite his great power, Devdanchar is consumed with foul passions, the greatest of which is his desire to kill. He indulges his bloodlust monthly in his own personal gladiatorial arena. Fighting with only his trusted kukri, he reigns as the undefeated champion. He has fought lions, gnolls, ogres and all manner of creatures whose only crime was being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Occasionally, he will place some foul demon in the pits and systematically torture it to death to the howling cheers of the mob. All matches end in death, but death rarely comes quickly.

His human appearance hides a darker secret. In reality, Devdanchar is half Rakshasa demon, half shape-shifter. In his true form, he has the head of a tiger and the body of a powerful man. Envious of his father, the King of all Rakshasas, he builds wealth and armies to prove his worth as an heir to the throne. Unfortunately for Devdanchar, he is an illegitimate child and has no claim to the throne. His father is King, but his mother is not the queen. She was not even a rakshasa, but a doppleganger. She was indulging a desire to affect Rakshasa society and its most powerful member, the King. The King became aware of her existence and impregnated her as a lesson to her. Abandoned by his mother at birth, Devdanchar was ‘adopted’ by the royal court and raised as a servant of the royal household.

Rejected by rakshasas as a half-breed, Devdanchar has a particular fondness for destroying full-blooded rakshasas. His hatred of them runs deep. He has often travelled to the plane of his birth to systematically eliminate his half-brothers and half-sisters.

From his rakshasa father, Devdanchar embodies what is taboo. He gorges himself in hideous acts of murder, plunder, gluttony, avarice and wrath. From his doppleganger mother, Devdanchar has gained the ability to change shape and assume the likes and mannerisms of others.

Yet, Devdanchar is a paradox. He can often be found in scholarly pursuits. His libraries have no equal in terms of depth and breadth of knowledge. He has achieved, by Shayakandi standards, the necessary knowledge and skills to be a well-educated man. He strives to use the power of his mind to control his carnal nature. Always the manipulator, he has found ways to manipulate the world around him with his mind.  In addition to being able to detect the thoughts of others, he can detect others with the power to shape the world around them with their thoughts.

When wrestling with his desires, he has been seen alternately assuming the shape of his father and mother in an argument with each other.

Questions

• Is such attention to the ethos of Shayakand worthwhile? Does it help to inform role-playing opportunities in a non-European based setting?
• What do you think dharma, or doing the right thingin a Vedic inspired setting should look like? What do you think would be taboo?
• Would providing more Shayakandi references in the villain’s description confuse or help?

For example, Devdanchar is known as a bashawithin his home city. A basha is a rich landowner as stated in his description, but the term also denotes something of a feudal lord, social superior and surrogate parent.

• Would providing separate encounter hooks for Shayakand natives and those born outside of Shayakand (elves for instance) be helpful?

As always, I look forward to any and all ideas and thoughts.

Portrait of a Villain Unleashed for 4e

In this eBook, you will find the complete back story to Desiree Turpis, also known as The Desire, a calculating Madame who manipulates local nobles and crime lords to serve her own needs.

It is fully-compatible with 4th Edition Dungeons & Dragons.

Along with The Desire’s own back story, adventure hooks, goals and motivations, you will also find:

• Three fully developed, drop-in encounters featuring The Desire
• Four new organizations to help create a rich campaign setting, complete with stats for each organization’s leader and minions
• The Objects of Desire; a collection of new magical masks for 4E
• The Sword Sisters; a new 4E Paragon Path for PCs bent on revenge
• Highcourt, City on the Edge; a fully developed microsetting to help get things started (includes full color map)
• The Ceremony, a short story where The Desire assassinates a local noble.

• TWO PDFs in each purchase. The main PDF is brilliant full color landscape, 3-column layout for EASY screen reading. The second PDF is a FREE B&W printer friendly version that includes a portrait 2-column layout, reduced graphics, and wider left margin. The result is a PDF that is easy on your ink/toner and ready to hole punched for your notebook.
• Interlinked PDFs with bookmarks and links
• Full color, beautiful illustrations and maps.

Portrait of a Villain: Mnemesyx, the Twice Fallen

Written by Paul King

Concept/Archetype: demon-possessed enchanted item
Keywords: demon, possessed, ritual, spirit-infused, item, enchanted
Race: demon
Profession: corrupting influence

“These abilities I bequeath unto you. Powers for the powerful. To possess them, all you have to do is let me in.”

Background

Mnemesyx was a demon who, in an age long past, rallied to forces of hell to him in an attempt to rule all of demonkind. The other demon lords, in a rare display of solidarity, put aside their differences and united to cast him into the mortal plane. Enraged but undaunted, Mnemesyx studied the world to which he was exiled and came to realize that great power lie within it. He determined that, should that power be gathered and guided correctly, one would not only be able to rule this world, but have the strength and reach to rule others – thus might he achieve his revenge on and dominion over the demons who cast him out.

He set about drawing the races of the world to him through subtle manipulation, having learned that growing in power too rapidly would only draw unwanted attention to him. Years passed and his influence spread, and as his influence grew, so, too did his power. It was not long, by the reckoning of demonkind, before Mnemesyx had the strength and influence to overthrow his first mortal kingdom, an act which the other rulers and kingdoms perceived as being a localized coup. From there, his seat of power was established and his influence began to creep across national boundaries.

One of the neighboring kingdoms was ruled by a wise king, one who was not blind to subtle invasion of his land. He sent agents of all types – wise men, magic users, and mighty warriors alike – to discover the source and nature of the invisible threat that stole across his land. Many were killed upon their discovery. Others fell under the demon’s spell and defected from their king and country to follow a new ruler. Afraid to risk any more of his nation’s brilliant minds and fighting men in the face of what would surely soon become a full-scale invasion, the king send word to lands yet outside the demon’s influence for mighty warriors and brave souls who might infiltrate the demon’s capital and slay him, ending the threat of war and worse beyond should his power continue to grow unopposed.

A party of heroes, career adventurers, heeded the call and set out on a mission to do nothing less than save the world. Successfully infiltrating the hostile nation under the guise of joining the demon’s forces, they tried to learn as much about their adversary as they could – eventually uncovering the demon’s true name and history. The party’s wizard, the human Zauric, contacted the infernal realm, hoping that they might be interested in once again helping to overthrow a hated foe. A demonic emissary presented the wizard with a ritual for binding Mnemesyx to his physical form, allowing him to be mortally wounded. What was not revealed was that, upon the destruction of the demon’s body, to keep Mnemesyx from manifesting back on the infernal plane, his essence would then be bound into an inanimate object.

As the ritual stripped the demon’s spirit from its mortal shell, it attempted to flow into the sword, but was repelled by the enchanted blade. The demon’s spirit then flowed into the next closest object – the warrior Brogan’s helmet still clutched tightly in its hands. When Brogan retrieved the helmet and placed it upon his head, he was assaulted by the demon’s spirit. Battered and beaten as he was by the harrowing battle he’d just finished, the warrior stood little chance of resisting the attack. The warrior was overtaken by Mnemesyx and slew his friend and the only other survivor of the battle. In the end, the warriors succeeded, but at great personal cost. Only one returned alive, and he a man forever changed.

The nation Mnemesyx built soon collapsed without the demon’s physical presence and his followers disappeared into hiding. Historical records to not record what happened to Brogan or where he went after that battle, and people were eager to forget the shadow of evil that lurked on their doorstep. But the demon still resides in the helmet, guiding its owner, drawing people to it, seeking and testing them not only as followers, but looking for an ever more powerful host with whom to conquer the mortal realm, longing for the day when he might march back into the infernal realms and have his revenge.

Motivations & Goals

Mnemesyx is driven by a singular desire to rule over everyone and everything. Regardless of the situation or setting he finds himself in, he is constantly looking to get into and maintain a position of power. Revenge would be a close second on the list of motivations for Mnemesyx. If he ever fails in his grabs for power, someone is to blame and he will go to any length – short of sacrificing the power he currently wields – for his retribution.

Adventure Hooks

• The PC’s encounter a military recruiter in town. He is signing mercenaries up for the army. The king, guided by a mysterious presence, is amassing his forces and looking to overthrow a weak neighbor, bringing them under his rule.
• A town’s mayor has passed an unpopular ordinance, resulting in higher taxes. Seizing upon their discontent, a mysterious warrior has appeared among the townsfolk, exhorting them to unite under his banner to overthrow the local government. The city has become divided at to which side to follow, tensions have escalated and the threat of violence has become very real. The PC’s, just passing through, are cornered and told to make their allegiance to one side or the other known.
• The PC’s happen upon a lynching in a small village. The villagers are looking to kill a man who was once part of a group thugs and bullies who preyed upon the weak and venerated a mysterious warrior who was going about preaching ‘might makes right.’ Eventually, it was determined that he was not ‘worthy’ or strong enough to be a member and had to flee for his life. Unfortunately, his former victims have little sympathy for him and are more than happy to vent their anger and frustration on a former tormentor.

Combat Tactics

When he inhabited his own physical form, Mnemesyx was a powerful demon who did not shy away from a fight against any foe he deemed inferior. When faced with an opponent who could not be directly overpowered, he would wait to strike until his opponent was in a vulnerable position – however long that might take. This might involve allying himself with his foe or evoking a false sense of loyalty.

When someone Mnemesyx deems worthy puts on the helmet, he will immediately launch a strong mental attack, attempting to overwhelm and possess them. Should he fail, he will not launch such an attack again, but begin putting thoughts in the wearer’s head, granting special abilities with the promise of more power to come if they will agree to ‘work with him.’ The goal of this being to get the potential host to lower their mental defenses enough to launch another assault on their will. As a possessing spirit, will attempt to use the strengths of his host to their greatest effect. He will not think twice about sacrificing his host to achieve his goals.

Should the wearer be considered weak or ‘unworthy,’ the helmet will try to mislead the wearer into increasingly dangerous encounters with more powerful enemies who might decide to take the helmet for themselves.

If the helmet is destroyed, the spirit of Mnemesyx will immediately be transferred into another metal item in the vicinity – priority given to a weapon first, armor second, and jewelry last – unless bound into it’s container by a special ritual and then physically destroyed, at which point he will manifest back in the infernal realms, surrounded by a great many demons who will be very unhappy to see him. It should be noted that the powers Mnemesyx confers will relate to the object he is currently inhabiting.

Mnemesyx, the Twice Fallen by Nevermet Press is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License. Permissions beyond the scope of this license may be available at http://www.nevermetpress.com/contact.

Portrait of a Villain: Jin Blackheart

Written by Steven Schutt

Concept/Archetype: Space Pirate Lord
Keywords: space opera, science-fiction, cybernetics tyranny
Race: cyborg: was human
Profession: Overlord of the Sol System

The year is 2603, and Jin Blackheart, a man of a hundred seventy three years, controls a vast network of black market trade in exotic spices, sex, slaves, weapons and less understandable fare. His seat of power sits on the surface of the sun in the Sol system. A huge magnetic field twenty thousand times stronger than earth’s protects his citadel and the surrounding cityscape. Seven huge space stations surround the sun at equal intervals, similarly protected.

Of these, three act as starship docks, shipyards, and barracks where Jin’s war fleet and its crew spend most of their time. The surface of two other moons caters to Jin’s many soldiers and pirate lords. The innards of these moons house the millions of poverty stricken victims of Jin’s many plunders. The remaining two act as giant power plants supplying his cities with the fields that protect them from the sun’s heat.

The sun’s life shortens by a thousand years every day these plants suck away its energy. Jin Blackheart could care less. His empire spans to the moons of Neptune, and when the star dies in three thousand years, he plans to be set up as emperor of this sector of the Milky Way, with trillions of supplicants pleading for his mercy. They will all rot.

Blackheart has no illusions that he is the most powerful man in the solar system, and knows there are those who wish ill of him. For the time being, he does not care, since, even at almost two hundred years of age, anyone who wishes to kill him must first fight their way through the thousands of automated weapons, guards and traps that protect him.

The will of Jin Blackheart is law, and there is nothing anyone can do to change it.

Background

Born from the union of a Martian mine conglomerate CEO and a Saturnian gas tycoon, Jin Leram knew little other than the luxury afforded by the obscenely rich. For fifteen years, he wanted for nothing. He received the best schooling from both the top universities and schools and from his exceedingly demanding parents.

The methods of business, the taking of cities without bloodshed, the colonization of planets centuries ago, the methods of attaining riches through both legal and less savory means, the annexation of small business at largest profit; Jin learned and mastered all of this and more by the time he was twenty three years old. At the age of twenty four, Jin’s parents ordered him out of their mansion on Jupiter’s core and told him to find his fortune then return. Never the dutiful son yet still a genius, Jin took the expulsion as a challenge and walked into the lightning storms with a plan.

Jin’s first act once out from under his parents’ wing was to leave the safety of the noble quarter of the core. In a move both stupid and defiant, the young Jin walked, nobles clothes and regalia, into the roughest district he could find and began looking for the underworld. When he found it, he found that his practiced martial arts and defensive techniques meant nothing if your opponent had the speed of ten men and the strength of twenty.

He lost a literal arm and a leg in several fights for the honor of men, which of course meant nothing but the credits in his account. He replaced his lost limbs with cybernetic prosthetics fitted with hidden weapons to better defend himself. By age thirty, ninety percent of Jin’s body was replaced by cybernetics. His brain he replaced with an indestructible network of nanomachines, his lungs with plasma generators that fed the machines and his stomach with a portable black hole that constantly drew in matter from outside of him to keep him satiated.

His greatest achievement came in the form of his heart, a machine he designed and built himself. He replaced his most vital organ with a nuclear reactor fitted with a quantum ticker: essentially an immortality engine that pulled energy from space-time itself, transformed it into black, stellar plasma and circulated it throughout the body. Jin Leram became Jin Blackheart with the heart transplant, and with the loss of his name, he spent his last billion. Now dirt poor but with a mind and body to rival a quasi-god, Jin’s plan finally began in earnest: he would do more than his parents combined. He planned to rule the solar system itself in less than a century.

To accomplish this mammoth task, Jin used all his cunning to integrate himself into the underground on Mars, which, by the virtue of its position next to Earth, and Jupiter had connections to every planet in the system. His following was small at first, and his raiding ship was a clunker, but his plans of attack accrued an 89% success rate regardless. The authorities never found more than a minuscule trace of evidence, and none of it ever came close to Jin’s doorstep.

In ten years he commanded a small armada of fifteen frigates, two cruisers and a battleship and took prizes from everyone except the Lords of Sol, the twelve men and women who ruled the system. Jin’s ambition knew no bounds, and he wanted the Lords to bow to him, so he set about crushing them in one fell swoop. Knowing they ruled from Pluto, deep in the planet’s core, he resolved to obliterate Pluto from the universe. And he knew how to do it: use the Sun.

Once again, Jin Blackheart possessed almost no credit to his name and his connections were all but exhausted, but his weapon was unstoppable. A ring, a mile in diameter, attached to the sun and aimed at Pluto. With the push of a button, Jin funneled twenty earth masses of pure starstuff at the core of the once-ninth planet, ripping it from the fabric of space-time itself and collapsing it into an area of voidspace that became a no-man’s land in an instant. Knowing his weapon had only one more use left, Jin decided to play his hand for control of the system. Three months after Pluto disappeared into a horrid rip in reality, Jin Blackheart took the title of Emperor of Sol, and all knew that to cross him meant another planet’s death.

Motivations & Goals

As an immortal surrounded at all times by a thousand and one cyborg guards, traps and political webs, Jin fears nothing, and thus his plans are audaciously grand. In his one hundred and seven years of rule, he’s found that his vice grip on the solar system is tighter than ever, and looks to the stars for further conquests. However, progress is slow not because Jin cannot urge his followers to action, but because of the great distance of Earth from Alpha Centauri. To that end, Jin has three ideas that he plans to give his top scientists a decade, no more, to put into effect.

The first of these is simple, at least by Jin’s standards. He wants to create a giant slingshot that thrusts starships between space and time just long enough to reach Alpha Centauri. The first few ships will be manned with criminals, potential assassins and several thousand loyal, yet ultimately expendable, soldiers. Jin’s scientists will track all transmissions and analyze any failures and any contact on the other side. To make sure the communication goes uninterrupted, Jin himself put together a universal communicator that sends messages across the universal dark-matter net, and thus sidesteps matter and its hazards altogether.

The second is more complicated, but not without possibility. The proposed plan is as follows: tap into the aforementioned dark-matter net and use it as a superhighway to travel outside of material reality at speeds exceeding those of light. However, even in the twenty seventh century, the properties of dark matter remain somewhat mysterious. While scientists know how to capture and manipulate the stuff in simple terms, to use it as a propulsion source is a radical leap forwards.

Not even antimatter accelerates anything too far below light speed, and then only when it is focused into a molecular width beam. Ten years of research doesn’t seem, at least to Jin’s top researchers, to be a viable timeframe to jump science that far. Of course, with so many willing and equally brilliant minds waiting for their positions, those same researchers have nothing but success to think about.

Finally, Jin’s third plan, his favorite and perhaps the most improbable of them, is to stomp on the face of the Lords one final time and use the voidspace that was Pluto and pull the Alpha Centauri system close enough to Sol that interstellar traffic is not necessary.

To do so, Jin says, the void must be contained and focused, its polarity shifted such that it points directly at the desired star, then forced to pull with the strength of a galactic core black hole. In theory, this might be enough to, over the course of a millennium or so, do just as Jin desires, though only he would be alive to see the end result. His scientists, therefore, work to shorten the time span that they too might live to see mankind’s greatest achievement called from the imagination of a tyrant.

Organization

The structure of Jin’s empire, The Black Empire, is not simple, nor is it overly complex. First, its most powerful figure, Jin himself, has final say on all decisions made by the major power base, the Regents of a Star. These Regents make all laws and debate on them until Jin finds the time to read over summaries the Regents provide. Each law is several hundreds of pages long with several thousand sub-clauses. Since Jin does not read each sub-clause, nor are the Regents required to include them in the summary, none of them are foolish enough to do anything to undermine his rule. His network of spies is too vast and well informed and his punishments too far beyond sane comprehension.

Below the Regents are the Pirate Lords. This loose knit collection of powerful brigands and privateers must follow the laws of the Empire, but many of the sub-clauses in those laws are worded such that the Lords do as they please without fear of retribution. While this might insight chaos in most governments, Jin wrote a law early in his rule that even the Pirate Lords obey.

No one, unless given clearance from Jin himself, may keep everything they take, buy or sell without giving back something to the government. Thus, when a pirate steals an entire shipload of high-density starship fuel, he must give a percentage of that fuel to the government through some method. This is a well-known secret that all of Jin’s subjects merely accept when they receive their letters of credit for food, clothing and other essentials.

The unwashed masses, the trillions of people living on the six colonized planets and fifteen moons, not including those worthy enough to live on the sun with their king, comprise the rest of the empire. While there is a class structure within these many faces, and certain people have far more power than others, Jin’s government counts them all as a single entity.

However, this is not to say that someone cannot rise to Jin’s or his agents’ attentions. Powerful captains of industry who won their fortune by the sweat of their hands and the blood of their veins petition the Regents on an almost daily basis, hoping, many times in vain, that the council finds them worthy of notice. Those who succeed find themselves in possession of a mighty battlecruiser emblazoned with Jin Blackheart’s sigil, marking them as a Pirate Lord. They receive also a special cybernetic implant that serves three purposes.

First, it identifies the lucky man or woman as under the protection of the Black Empire and that they are not to be harmed except by those who similarly possess the implant.

Second, this implant tracks the movement of the new Empirical agents and catalogs their habits, quirks, business transactions, anything that the Regents or Jin himself might find useful for one of their many ventures.

Third, and perhaps most important to Jin’s ego, is the detonation chip that sits on the outermost surface of the implant. At any time, Jin, or a Regent at his command, may press a single button assigned to their agent and both he and an area a hundred miles in diameter will disappear in a horrid implosion into voidspace. The supplicant receives all this information on implantation, and thus many think twice before doing anything to betray their new master.

Adventure Hooks

Weapons’ End: One of Jin’s many weapon factories suddenly cuts off all communication with the Empire and the powerful, star plasma weapons produced there stop churning out. To make matters worse, one of Jin’s Pirate Lords broke his oath of fealty and found a way to deactivate the detonation chip in his implant. The two are, Jin thinks, not unconnected. A loyal Pirate Lord approaches the PCs and asks for their help in a delicate matter, but says no more, promising an explanation, and compensation, once they reach the area of interest.

On arriving at the weapons facility, the Pirate loads the party into an escape pod and jettisons them towards the floating deathtrap. A hologram in the pod tells them they have three days to solve the problem and gives the PCs a rundown of the situation. Finally, the message states that a great sum of money is already in their accounts, with more to come should they succeed. If they don’t there are others who would be happy to have that cash in their pockets.

He Speaks Truths: A beggar grabs one of the PC’s arms as they pass through a metropolis on Mars. He does not ask for money or food or water. He says a small band of thugs stole an Imperial signet ring and fled to a small warehouse on the fringe of the city. When asked how he knows this, he gives a cryptic response and grows quiet, telling the party only that recovering the ring will bring them a good reputation with the Empire.

When the party reaches the warehouse, they find the thugs dead, their hearts pinned to the walls, seemingly torn from their chests. The ring sits in the middle of the floor, shining in the gore. As the party travels to the nearest Imperial guard post to return the ring, several people around them also have their hearts ripped out, with no apparent reason. Suspicion of murder falls on the party’s shoulders, and they must work fast to both discover the identity of the ring and clear their names before the unknowing authorities try and destroy an Imperial R&D experiment.

Combat Tactics

The Ruler of the Black Empire, even at one hundred seventy three years, possesses the strength of twenty men and the martial ability to destroy ten of his finest guard droids without breaking much of a sweat. His left arm contains an ion cannon that can destroy five square city blocks at full power and extends into a blade when close combat becomes necessary. His right hand transforms into a flamethrower/missile launcher combination, and he can manifest plasma wings to fly at unbelievable speeds. His right eye can see in all light ranges and can emit concentrated gamma rays in a visible beam by mixing them with protons.

If for some reason Jin is without these weapons and reduced to mere mortal abilities, his skill with fist and foot is second to none. Given the opportunity, he breaks the legs of his opponent, stomps their skull into pulp, then throws them against a wall prepared with spikes or other sharp implements and proceeds to pummel their ribs to dust. This all, of course, assumes that the attacker somehow made it past ten thousand human guards, a dozen details of assassin droids and sentry guns and a labyrinth of traps and political intrigue that only Jin can decode given time.

Jin Blackheart by Nevermet Press is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License. Permissions beyond the scope of this license may be available at http://www.nevermetpress.com/contact.

Portrait of a Villain: False Hope

Written by Steven Schutt
Illustrated by Rob Torno

Concept/Archetype: Man Made Machine
Keywords: Clockwork, Steampunk, Societal Change
Race: “Human”
Profession: “Morality Guide”

I followed the darkened places of the world, saw the slime of the earth, the dross of civilization, and made it my own. My veins run thick with the sludge that powers this place. My heart does not beat but clicks, counting along into eternity. This eye of mine I lost long ago. I replaced it with the mechanisms of this age, and now the future, the future I will make, stands before it.

But why do I tell you all this, if I seek your destruction, you ask? Because I do not. You are nothing in the scheme of things now, not even worthy of your current existence. Instead, you shall become an experiment in futility. When I release you from this place, you will remember everything I did to you, every torture, evil and destruction. You will tell everyone you see of the horrors I committed, to no avail. You will break under the dual strain of my wrongdoing and the people’s apathy. Then your mind will take on the traits I tenderly placed within it, and your purpose will be clear.

You will no longer be slave to the desires and passions of men. You will be a being who can perfect those in your charge: something above humanity. You will teach the world to see the truth I instill in you. Know this, and know that I pray each day for your success.

Background

Some three hundred years ago, Illam Rapesh died a lonely death amid the blackened roses of his estate’s large garden. His home burned behind him, the oil and coal in its cellar fueling a fire that lasted weeks. When the blaze died, Illam’s innards were all that remained, for they were made of wrought iron. His veins were copper tubing and his heart a mass of gearworks, sprockets and springs; his left eye was a glass lens inlaid in a single, large cog set with diamonds. Why he died when he long before ceased aging no one knew. His service was short, few in his family could truly say they knew him. He asked only his closest friends to grieve for him if he did die, and such was the case.

Once in the earth that gave him his skeleton and vital organs, the people did not forget Illam Rapesh, for his many inventions, while strange and often useless, were memorable and cute. He gave them clocks with faces of moon dust, teakettles that sang opera when the water boiled, windup toys painted with liquid smiles, and switch-on showers that gave the water the fruity taste of its user’s choice. These toys served the people well, but, on some level, it was Illam’s life that gave them any meaning, and on his death, the people saw no reason to maintain them. Their lack of value in his work would lead to horrid events far in the future.

For, while Illam’s spirit rested peacefully in the heavens above, what he left behind on the earth did not. Illam did not fear death, and neither did he expect it, but he was no fool, and knew that even the strongest fall. So he crafted a mechanical brain and copied his mind into the mass of iron and steel. He then situated this brain next to his heart, for he needed no lungs. A few weeks after he died, the brain activated as it was built to. By that time, Illam’s family was deep into a dispute over his fortune. The mechanized Illam watched as the events played out, not wanting to add to the chaos. When things settled, animosity remained among various members of the family, and it did not take long for this to boil into a seething rage. The murders were expected; the fall from grace all too obvious. Illam only shook its head and walked away from its ruined, debased family.

Illam found that those in the cities of the world were no better. Clothing itself in thick robes to remain unknown, Illam traveled the alleyways and main streets, watching the world and those in it. Illam saw, to its horror, what became of its inventions. Some lay rusting in the gutters of wealthy men, others modified into weapons of death, still others melted down and recast as “more useful” items. Anger took hold, and Illam’s mind began to think dark thoughts, but this is not what caused Illam’s full mental breakdown. That came in a form most unexpected.

Brooding over its what became of its legacy, Illam didn’t know what it should do to right the wrongs it saw. For many years the wheels, gears and cogs that made up the mechanical mind spun, working on an answer and considering all possible contingencies to its actions. As it wandered the desolate wastes far from civilization, Illam passed a small shantytown, understandably devoid of life. Through this quiet empty town it walked, until a spell of some kind seized it. Unable to move, Illam watched as a figure emerged from a house to the north. With a wave of its hand, Illam’s many cloaks fell to the ground. The figure took a step back in amazement, then chuckled and brought magical chains to bear on its mechanical prize.

For the next hundred years, Illam Rapesh served this long lived wizard as a guardian and advisor on the nature of clockwork magic. As the years passed, Illam’s mind underwent tremendous strain. The magic used to keep the many gears, cogs and steam generators going did not mix well with the mental bindings that kept Illam beholden to the wizard. In the end, the inevitable came, as it always does, with death.

On the last day of Illam’s hundredth year of servitude, it snapped. With the dawn of the hundred and first year, Illam walked out of the shantytown, its hands stained with gore. Behind it walked the horrific form of its first creation in over a hundred years. People on the opposite side of the desert saw the smoke rising from the burning ruin Illam left behind.

Since that day, Illam, which now calls itself False Hope, seeks out men of power, be it magical, financial or political, and breaks them. Torture, both physical and psychological; starvation, brainwashing, destruction of self-identity and its restoration, implantation of clockworks; it subjects these men and women to this and more. Once finished, False Hope returns it victims to their lives and waits for its implanted suggestions to take. All it does then is wait. Change comes shortly thereafter. Two hundred years have now passed, and False Hope’s work is only just beginning.

Motivations & Goals

False Hope wants to end the existence of weakness and falseness of those in the world. As it moves from town to town, city to city, it continues to learn the many methods of breaking men and giving them new purpose. By removing their baser notions of life, False Hope believes it gives people the ability to be completely true to the world and live the perfect life for themselves. However, deep inside, this is not False Hope’s true goal. No, that wish is far more insidious.

In short, False Hope wishes to remove the humanity from humanoids: to return them to a state of either mindlessness or perfect order. If the latter is the result, False Hope’s self-imposed mission is a success, since, in its mind, order needs no policing, and the chaotic influences of the world no longer occur. If the former occurs, then the mission, while technically a failure, is not without its upsides. With only the mind of animals, the morality of man no longer matters.

Organization

False Hope is a one-machine organization, and it wants to keep things that way. Any mortal interference, any at all, and the whole plan might spiral into chaos, the anathema of everything False Hope works for.

So upon finding its next target, False Hope watches the victim for many weeks, months even, learning everything there is to know about their lives. It then proceeds to temporarily silence everyone who might be a hindrance to its mission, then makes its move. Once the target is secure, False Hope flees to a prepared hideout it made sure no one could ever find. It works quickly, stealing only three to five scream filled nights of its victim’s life. They then return with a story that, while strange, is not at all out of that person’s actual lifestyle. Then, False Hope moves far away, looking back in a decade or two in order to gauge its progress.

Plot Hooks

Penny for Your Thoughts: A sage disappears for several days, and then returns, saying a planar visitor came calling. When he returns, he has no memory of anything for the past few months, and his house falls to disarray. Just when order seems to return, he dies, but magic cannot extract anything from the sage’s spirit mind. Concerned family hires the PCs to find both the sage’s killer and discover some way to retrieve his stolen memories.

My Kingdom for a Kingdom: False Hope kidnaps a local mayor as the PCs rest at an inn within his city’s walls. The delicate balance of power the mayor kept in check dissolves into chaos and the PCs are caught in the middle. When the mayor returns, he swiftly restores order, and things settle. Soon, however, the mayor begins slipping into insanity. False Hope, realizing one of its rare failures, begins its standard response to such a shortfall and summons a firestorm to destroy the town. What False Hope did not expect, even after months of planning, was the appearance of the PCs, and he now scrambles to figure them into the equation. The party must travel to the mountains in the south to remove the artifact causing the holocaust and uncover the trail of the being that tried to kill them.

Combat Tactics

False Hope is no stranger to conflict, and has seen its share of battles. It detests direct combat, and its lairs always have five-fold defensive layers before anyone reaches the final redoubt. A fan of intricate, clock-based traps that end in death, False Hope’s defenses always contain some intricate riddle or puzzle that sets off the trap either way. In fact, answering correctly only makes the trap stronger and more painful. If faced in direct combat by worthy opponents, False Hope fights with an array of modifications it’s made to its body, including blades, saws, steam cannons and less-describable implements. The machine man always has several escape routes and, if pressed, has a wide array of steam and clock based magic at its command.

False Hope by Nevermet Press is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License. Permissions beyond the scope of this license may be available at http://www.nevermetpress.com/contact.

Portrait of a Villain: Automated Antagonist

Written by Paul King
Illustrated by Kenya Ferrand

Keywords: humanoid construct
Race: warforged, android, golem
Profession: guards, assassin

This one’s purpose is its ‘life,’ to take one is to take the other. Your interference threatens both. This one can not allow that.

Fiction

Many years ago, during a time of strife and forgotten conflict, there stood a quiet, modest city in a small, sheltered valley – both sharing the name Hidden Vale. This city needed no fortifications, for the mountains themselves served as a wall more imposing and formidable than any yet built by the hands of man, dwarf or elf – the only means of accessing the valley being a narrow road that led through a rugged pass in the mountains.

The residents of the valley were a laid back, simple folk who enjoyed the small pleasures of life and warmly received the few travelers and enterprising caravans that endured the trek to their bucolic realm. It was to this area that Rendersson Forgegrinder, artificer of the arcane, arrived one fateful day.

Rendersson arrived in Hidden Vale looking for a peaceful place in which to settle. He had spent much of his life traveling abroad and experiencing the world, only to find that much of it did not suit him. The recent exacerbation of hostilities between two nations bordering the quiet vale serving only to magnify his desire to remove himself from the senseless conflict.

Both fascinated and a little unnerved by the strange contraptions and animated constructs he bore with him, the locals welcomed the worldweary dwarf into their midst. Before long the talented tinkerer and metalworker had set up shop and, day by day, became more immersed in this new place he called home. Rendersson Forgegrinder and his metal menagerie became a common sight around Hidden Vale – repairing tools and equipment, helping wherever he could with farming and construction. For a season, all was well.

Then, one perfect fall evening, the unthinkable happened – the Vale was attacked. A band of marauders rode into the vale. But this group of cutthroats was no simple raiding party, but a detachment of trained soldiers come seeking the one known as Forgegrinder. It did not take long to find out where his shop was located. They rode up to the door, leaving a trail of blood and ash in their wake. The old dwarf met them on his porch.

“Your holiday is over, Warsmith, the King Raithan sent us to fetch you back. There’s work to be done.” Captain Hastur, a hulking brute of a man and the leader of the detachment, hopped from his mount and stalked over.

“You’ve got the wrong dwarf, sir.” Rendersson, replied, “And you have brought pain and suffering to these people, and for no reason. I suggest you leave now.”

“No dwarf, you brought this upon them in hiding here, and your refusal to come with us will only cause more of the same! Did you really think your disappearance would go unnoticed? With a war going on?”

Rendersson Forgegrinder looked past the group of heavily armed men to the chaos that followed them. Those townsfolk who were not putting out fires or fearfully dragging the body of a friend or lover from the street looked upon him from behind shuttered windows and drawn curtains. Even in the growing darkness, he could see the fear and anger in their eyes. He knew that the man, vile as he was and stained by innocent blood, spoke the truth.

“Very well, Captain, if you promise to leave these people be, I’ll return with you.” Rendersson took a few steps forward.

“Not so fast, Warsmith,” The leader put a hand out to stop him, “The king wants you back, but he also wants the papers and scrolls you took when you left. He’s got that unstoppable army of his to finish building.”

“What makes you think I need them? I’ve got all I need up here.” The dwarf tapped his head. The hulking fighter considered this for a moment, then glanced around Hidden Vale.

“I suppose it makes no difference, we’ll be returning here shortly – now that we know about this place, I’m sure the Raithan will be happy to annex it. Sooner or later, we’ll find them.”

The old dwarf’s heart fell. He knew that in choosing to hide in Hidden Vale, he had doomed the very people who so warmly welcomed him into their midst. If only he could erase what he’d done . . . a sudden spark of hope kindled within him. Perhaps there was a way he could protect Hidden Vale.

Forgegrinder allowed a heavy sigh to escape his lips, “That won’t be necessary, I have them inside.”

“I thought you might,” the Hastur sneered, an expression he wore frequently, “Gather them up, and let’s be quit of this sorry backwater.”

The dwarf paused at his door, “It’s more than I can carry alone, either help me or wait for me to make several trips.”

The large man gestured to two of his men as the dwarf disappeared inside his shop. The two soldiers dismounted and made their way onto the porch and left the door open as they wondered inside, looking around for the short stocky form of the dwarf. The Captain turned to open his saddlebags and make room for items he’d been sent to fetch. Suddenly, the door slammed shut, causing him to spin back around. A second later, his sword was in his hand as a crash and a stifled scream made its way to him from within the shop.

“The old fool thinks he can hold out in his shop, does he? Everyone inside!” The large man moved to the porch with surprising speed and, raising a huge boot, kicked the door in as his men rushed inside. They found the dwarf standing in the middle of the room. The bodies of their two comrades splayed lifelessly on the floor.

“Big mistake, Warsmith, it’s not you we’ve been ordered to bring back, merely your notes and plans.” A wicked grin crossed the big soldier’s face. “In attacking my men, you’ve saved us the trouble of having to haul your treasonous carcass back to the king.”

The dwarf calmly held his ground, “Oh, I didn’t attack your men, Hastur.” He pointed to the rafters above them, “they did.”

Hastur and his men looked just in time to see a wave of metal forms crash down upon them from the shadows.

Several long minutes passed before the door to Rendersson Forgegrinder’s shop opened and, trailing footprints of red on the dusty planks, a short, stout form walked out on the porch to stand before the fearful crowd that had begun to gather when the soldiers had all run inside. The dwarf passed a sad, weary gaze over the residents of Hidden Vale that had dared to assemble. His head bowed heavily. “My friends, I am so very sorry. I came here to find peace and escape war, but instead brought pain and bloodshed. I cannot undo what has been done, but I will see to it that you are never harmed by the outside world again. This I swear, not only on my own life, but on the life of any wicked being who sets foot in Hidden Vale from this day forth.”

Background

Rendersson Forgegrinder was a gifted dwarven blacksmith with a talent for arcane infusion. Having seen his creations used time and time again by the greedy, warmongering King Raithan to inflict pain and misery, Forgegrinder collected all of his notes, being especially mindful not to leave behind any plans for his most recent creation – magical automatons the king intended to use as soldiers – and disappeared.

Fearing pursuit, and fearing more that a rival kingdom might try to abuse his creations as his former king had, Forgegrinder fled into the mountains and stumbled, quite literally, into Hidden Vale. The quiet, beautiful Vale was everything Rendersson desired after a life surrounded by conflict and bloodshed. He took quickly to the new environment and worked hard to become a member of their community, using his talents and creations to help the people of the Vale in any way he could.

Unfortunately, word got out about the amazing tinkerer of Hidden Vale and eventually made its way back to his former employer, the vengeful king. He dispatched a group of soldiers to discover the whereabouts of the fugitive dwarf and fetch both the plans and the arcane blacksmith back with them – dead or alive. The dwarf initially attempted to negotiate himself for the safety of the vale, but quickly realized that the king would never leave the vale and its peaceful inhabitants alone. Luring his would-be captors into his shop, he wiped the group of hardened warriors to a man by turning his creations on them.

Knowing that this act of sedition would not go unanswered by the king, Rendersson quickly set about using his unique abilities to construct a special set of autonomous defenses for Hidden Vale. In this way, he hoped to keep the residents of the vale safe from the unwanted attention that hounded him. To keep the small valley hidden, he constructed a special field that could nullify any attempts to magically discern its location or spy on its inhabitants.

Then, re-working and updating the plans he had been preparing for King Raithan, Rendersson built a group of four powerful arcane sentinels to guard the narrow mountain pass leading into the small valley from would-be invaders. To these implacable unliving soldiers of metal he gave a single purpose – ensure that no outsider set foot in Hidden Vale.

Over the next few weeks, several caravans and a handful of travelers were peaceably turned away at the pass. This was tolerated for a time, but as the already-meager trickle of money and goods that flowed into the vale dried up, questions and grumblings about the effectiveness of Forgegrinders’ sentinels began. The tipping point came when the remains of a caravan led by a hardheaded driver who attempted to push his way through the blockade were discovered. Before they knew it, the residents of the Vale were completely cut off from the rest of the world. More upsetting yet, any residents who had traveled outside the vale were no longer allowed to return to their homes and families.

The elders of the Vale approached Rendersson and demanded that he fix his creations to allow traders and residents safe passage without molestation. Forgegrinder tried to explain to them the evils of the outside world and the need to for protection from their greedy kings and the bloody wars they constantly waged and how no one on the outside could be trusted – that even those native to the vale might be seduced and convinced to betray their own people.

It was during this exchange that the old dwarf let slip a surprising detail – a third means of protecting the Vale had been constructed and set in motion. When pressed on the matter, Forgegrinder confessed that, in the crushing remorse and despair he felt over the carnage he’d brought to Hidden Vale, he had come to believe that, for the good of all who lived there, any knowledge of Hidden Vale by the outside world must be extinguished. To that end, a fifth sentinel was created, equipped and dispatched to the outside world to seek and destroy any and all evidence of the vale’s existence, starting with the bloody King Raithan.

Furious, the people of the Vale demanded that Rendersson undo what he had wrought. The dwarf tried to explain that, in order to produce the sentinels so quickly, the rituals and bindings he used to create them could not be altered once applied. A mob formed and drove him up into the pass to put a stop to his creations. The dwarf moved to the nearest sentinel and began to alter one of the runes that defined its operating parameters.

The sentinel, perceiving an attack, lashed out in an act of self-preservation – unknowingly killing its creator. Associating the nearby mob with the attack, the sentinels chased the group back into the valley, before resuming their positions. From that day on, the pass became unapproachable from either direction. Rendersson Forgrinders’ creations were now wardens to those within as well as guards to those without.

Outside the small valley, a mysterious solitary figure traveled the country side, silently stalking the fading legend of Hidden Vale.

Purpose & Behavior

Rendersson Forgegrinders’ sentinels are not motivated so much as they are programmed to behave a certain way. To fulfill their purpose, they will work together to the utmost of their abilities. The set of operating parameters that they were hastily bound to are as follows:

• Ensure that no creature, alive or otherwise, enters Hidden Vale.
• Aid and protect the citizens of Hidden Vale, provided doing so does not conflict with # 1.
• Preserve own ability to function and carry out one’s intended purpose, provided doing so does not conflict with # 1 or 2.

The fifth construct was created with a different purpose – and therefore a different set of operating parameters in mind:

• Seek out and eliminate any reference to or knowledge of Hidden Vale, outside of the Vale itself.
• Aid in the defense and preservation of Hidden Vale against imminent threat, provided doing so does not conflict with # 1.
• Preserve own ability to function and carry out one’s intended purpose, provided doing so does not conflict with # 1 or 2.

Within these parameters, the constructs were granted the ability to reason, plan and act of their own accord, with an emphasis being placed on speed and efficiency. Achieving the maximum result with the minimum amount of effort contributes to success in the face of what might otherwise be overwhelming odds, as does being free from the mental, physical and emotional needs of living beings and possessing limitless endurance and strength beyond that of most (medium to large) humanoids.

As impressive as Forgegrinder’s constructs were, perhaps the most important feature they were granted was the ability to learn and retain knowledge. Any strategy or tactic used against the creations is remembered and, if possible, put into use when deemed appropriate.

They cannot copy abilities they do not already possess, however, such as flight or spellcasting – though they were given wards against magic that might be used against them – but remain keenly aware of any characteristics associated with those who use such abilities for future reference. Consequently, given enough time and the necessary exposure, each sentinel possesses the capacity to become detailed repositories of military and arcane knowledge.

Adventure Hooks

• A terrified NPC approaches the PC’s, convinced that death itself stalks him. In much the same way, this NPC encountered a weary, ragged individual in a forest some distance away who staggered into his presence, muttering incoherently about something called ‘Hidden Vale’ before passing out from exhaustion.The NPC tried to make this battered stranger comfortable and went off in search of food, water and first aid for the various bruises and cuts that appear to have come from a headlong flight through dense wilderness. Upon returning, the NPC finds that the stranger has been brutally murdered and immediately flees for his/her life. Since that day, the NPC has lived in fear of a mysterious, unexplained presence. What the PC’s may not want to hear is that theirs is not the first party of adventurers this fearful NPC has approached . . .
• A mysterious fire has destroyed the wing of a reputable library containing maps and atlases. There are no suspects and no logical motive for such a senseless act of vandalism. The head of the library, an accomplished magic user, attempts to divine some information about the culprit(s) only to discover that the person or persons responsible are hidden and protected by a particular set of wards not seen since the last war instigated by the bloodthirsty (and by now, quite dead) King Raithan.
• In a small frontier town – recently rebuilt and repopulated after a horrific massacre and nearly being razed to the ground – a surprising number of fliers depicting missing persons have been posted. The residents of the town are very emphatic that they have nothing to do with the disappearances and, more curiously, have no desire to repeat the fate of the original town by investigating matters too deeply. The townsfolk ask that the PC’s not visit any further calamity upon them and, for the love of all that is Lawful Good, stay out of the mountains.
• The PC’s, in their travels, happen across an abandoned, nearly overgrown trade route. Oddly enough, they can find no mention of or reference to it on any maps they might possess. Nature and History checks are also of no use in determining where it might lead.

Combat Tactics

The four sentinels guarding Hidden Vale maintain a set defensive posture: Two sentinels stand in the road facing any who approach. The other two sentinels, one hidden on each side of the pass, make their way to the rear of the approaching individuals or group and, should hostilities begin, attack from the rear. When attempts are made to approach the pass from within the Vale (an exceedingly rare occurrence), the two road sentinels move to usher – or fight – them back into the valley while the two hidden sentinels move to take up the two original positions on the road. Any who approach within 10 feet of the sentinels are given a verbal warning to turn back, lest they be attacked. No information as to their purpose or what they guard is given.

The fifth sentinel acts as a lone assassin, assessing a location or situation before acting in populated areas, searching for the most effective means of destroying its target while remaining hidden and anonymous – a tactic it has come to define as allowing for the most complete fulfillment of its purpose in the long run. Should it recognize a target person or object in a secluded area with little or no chance of witnesses, interference or escape, it will attack directly and immediately unless it determines that doing so will jeopardize success on any concurrent or future missions.

This lone sentinel also has the ability to speak, but will rarely do so beyond asking the whereabouts of an individual or directions to a destination.

Automated Antagonist by Nevermet Press is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License. Permissions beyond the scope of this license may be available at http://www.nevermetpress.com/contact.

Portrait of a Villain: The Sleepless Drift, Neirave

Written by Dennis N. Santana
Illustrated by James Keegan

The Winter brings forth the new year by freezing and smothering the wrongs of the past year. But Winter has ceased to have meaning, because people have ceased to change. Now they fear winter’s judgment. What they deserve is an endless winter, to reflect their frozen hearts.

Background

The Sleepless Drift, Neirave is an odd-looking woman, with a sterile beauty that seems mournfully frozen in time, wearing a long robe covered with crystals and flecks of ice. Those who enter her domain greatly fear discovering her or the creatures she commands, as no heart seems warm or pure enough for her to spare the wrath of her wintry domain.

Neirave Eda was born in an isolated forest village during a grave winter. She was a normal child for the longest time, but each winter she seemed to go through a change. As the land whitened, so did her hair turn pale, her eyes turn ice blue, her skin become grayed and her lips darkened. Things she touched would quickly become cold. Sculptures she made from ice or snow would move of their own volition if she commanded them to.

Her sorcerous power attracted negative attention. The villagers believed she would become dangerous to them. The village had no other with such powers, nobody who could control Neirave should she anger. But then winter would pass and she would return to normal. The village would forget, until next year. The winter would transform them, reveal their true colors and torment Neirave with the apparition.

Each winter her change would become more pronounced and her powers stronger. And each winter, the spring would take longer and longer to come, exposing Neirave to more and more of the village’s wrath.

Eventually, Neirave Eda was driven to suicide. She sliced her throat open over a mound of snow that hid her body forever. But she did not know what she did, for the girl had little control over her powers. All the dread and sorrow she felt, the fear of her persecution and the stress caused by the villager’s intolerance, was imparted upon that mound of snow, and perhaps into the forest itself.

A different Neirave was created there. An animate of ice with her exact appearance and power, but none of her earthly limitations upon her power. Encasing her old body in the ice, to be able to rest undisturbed, the new Neirave brought to the region their greatest fear – a winter that would never end and the untold destruction that comes with it. The place became known soon for its unending winter. Deep within the forest, Neirave made allies of the wintry animals, and made servants of the cold wind and the endless snow.

Motivation & Goals

Neirave’s endless winter is confined only to the forest from which she hails, but expands ever so slightly with each passing day.

To Neirave, the winter is a transitional period. The year is encased in ice and destroyed so the world can begin anew. Each winter, she would transform to show the worst in humanity – their fear and prejudice and anger towards a helpless girl. Now she has turned the winter upon her old tormentors. Unless they themselves transform into beings fit to live, the winter will drain them of all life, burdening them with the cold of their own sin.

Most of Neirave’s weaknesses remain trapped in her corpse, somewhere in the forest. But her emotions have not been entirely drained from her. Within her cold body still beats a warm heart. As long as it does, she cannot truly become the winter she wishes to. Her current goal is to master all of her powers, to overcome her false flesh and inherited emotions. To drive the winter past the forest and out into the waiting world.

Organization

Though she has all the memories of her old self, Neirave is a sheltered creature nonetheless. She knows little of what lies outside her own forest. Neirave’s grand retinues are composed of wolves and bears, and other animals of the cold forest, along with automata of snow and ice given a partial life by Neirave’s winter. These beasts have but one mission, which is to kill any remnants of the Neirave’s forest home that oppose her.

Neirave resides deep within the forest, randomly traversing it from day to day, never once staying in the same place. Despite her restlessness and randomness, she does have some followers. People who’ve encountered her and have been turned into ice effigies, they themselves embodying only a hatred for their own worst sins. They do not travel with her, but wander through her domain nonetheless. It is said that Neirave has one particular area of the forest from which her winter hails, that it is there where she can be stopped.

Combat Tactics

Neirave does not actively engage in combat, or at least, she has never had to. Upon witnessing her and receiving her kiss most people immediately die, becoming ice effigies. She commands violent blasts of cold wind that can uproot small buildings or blow away a group of strong men with mere breaths. Some never even see her, turned away by the violent winter in an instant. But her powers fluctuate, and only one major display of them has ever been witnessed. It is unknown if she can perform with such strength at all times.

Within the endless winter, she controls the ground, the wind, the sky. She is like a God in her own playing field, but a God that has never bested anyone but thugs and hunters, fighting without finesse. She knows not what would happen should a warm enough heart seek her in combat, nor what would happen if her old self would be brought back to life.

Adventure Hooks

• A surviving villager braves snow, monsters and her own fatigue and escapes into the outside world, warning a nearby village of the endless winter.
• The PCs must travel across a somewhat ordinary-seeming forest, but only within do they discover something sinister.
• Winters in the region begin to last longer, and the ground loses some fertility. An encroaching mantle of ice, seemingly alive, could be to blame.

The Sleepless Drift, Neirave by Nevermet Press is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License. Permissions beyond the scope of this license may be available at http://www.nevermetpress.com/contact.

Portrait of a Villain: Brother Ptolemy & the Hidden Kingdom (part 2)

… continued from part 1.

Goals

On the surface, the main goal of the Hidden Kingdom is to free all people, rich and poor alike, from the pain and suffering of a living existence, ushering them into the freedom of sentient undeath, though it is not common knowledge that the group is comprised solely of the undead – a secret they go to great lengths to keep.

What is not known until someone has the ritual performed upon them, is that whoever performs the ritual has an unnatural influence over the subject. Since Gerhardt von Brandt performed the ritual on himself, he retained his own will. An acolyte, upon performing the ritual upon a new initiate, has substantial influence over them – but since the acolyte is already in thrall to Ptolemy, he essentially controls the new initiates as well. Though he would never openly admit it, Ptolemy secretly entertains the idea of ruling a kingdom – perhaps even a continent, or a world – of sentient undead.

These goals are accomplished by following a very well-defined procedure: First, a small detachment of followers will move to a city and begin conducting acts of charity (funded by the group’s considerable resources) to gain the favour of the populace. At first, the group will pay particular attention to inviting the homeless and poverty-stricken to join – which they are often eager to do at the promise of little more than a hot meal. Soon after, they begin focusing on ‘rehabilitating’ criminals. During this time, the groups numbers will grow steadily, but the general populace often only notices that crime and poverty are being eliminated thanks to the mysterious group. An ‘outreach’ program will begin, involving public speakers and visits to friends and family of existing members. Eventually, the group will reach critical mass and can then exert enough political influence run the city or simply use the weight of numbers to forcibly induct the remaining population. A smaller detachment is then formed and sent out to repeat the process in another city.

Organization

Ostensibly, every member of the Hidden Kingdom is equal. Everyone dresses the same – wrapped head to toe in bandages, and dressed in red robes with a wooden mask painted gold – and all personal assets are handed over to the group when an individual joins. According to the monks themselves, this way of dressing and giving up personal wealth is a means of freeing oneself from vanity and greed – two things that commonly lead one to being a ‘prisoner of life.’ This gives them considerable resources for conducting charity work and, where necessary, bribing government officials to either look favourably upon them, or turn a blind eye to their activities. It also makes it nearly impossible to tell who is running the organisation. Numerous attempts to discover the origins and driving force behind the group have failed, and more than one assassin hired to put and end to a local cell has quit in frustration (those that weren’t converted, that is).

When faced with a threat, the group will avoid direct confrontation and attempt to use political and social influence to press the local community or governing officials to protect them. They will often try to spin a situation to put themselves in a position of being persecuted and victimised, despite wanting to help the community. Often enough, they are able to use their good standing within the community to force any would-be accusers into a very uncomfortable, unpopular position within the community. Attempts to discredit the red monks or cast doubt on their intentions with anything less than irrefutable proof are almost always going to fail.

Under the cover of darkness, however, the red monks might just as easily swoop down upon a desirable-yet-resistant potential convert or a vulnerable perceived threat in the middle of the night and forcibly convert them into followers. The services of a professional – particularly one from outside the local community – are also likely to be procured. The contracted help is just as likely to be silenced (or converted) as the intended victim, however, depending on how discreet and capable the monks’ perceive the hired help to be.

If, while still in the minority or lacking a hold over the local government, and faced with public exposure that threatens to unmask them (literally or figuratively), the red monks will withdraw from the community entirely that very night, before any hostility against them can be organised or perpetrated.

Gameplay

Note: This section was based primarily around D&D 4e, but can be adapted as needed for other systems

Brother Ptolemy and the Red Monks of the Hidden Kingdom are what Open Grave (a D&D 4e supplement) refers to as souled undead – living consciousness and intellect inhabiting a reanimated shell. In this instance, however, their bodies were never really “reanimated” in a literal sense, but rather never stopped being animated upon their death. The ritual used for the conversion will not raise the dead, it must be performed on a living being; it does stop the ageing process, however, but it will not heal wounds or prevent decay when a body can no longer maintain its vital functions. Thus, converts upon whom the ritual is performed are immediately ‘killed’ and embalmed as a part of the conversion process – not necessarily because they have to be, but because Brother Ptolemy wants it that way.

There are several important changes one experiences upon becoming a Red Monk:

• All converts to the Hidden Kingdom retain most, if not all, of the knowledge, skills and abilities they held in life – a fact which the Hidden Kingdom uses to further it’s agenda and influence within and around a community. However, any of those same powers, skills or abilities that relied on holy/divine/spiritual or primal/nature-based power sources are lost. Individuals worshipping evil deities who undergo conversion will keep or lose their power source at the discretion of their deity.
• Since their bodies no longer live, they have no need to eat, drink, breathe or sleep. They feel no pain, cannot be knocked unconscious nor can they be poisoned – in fact any bite attacks against a Red Monk by a living creature risks the attacker being poisoned by ingesting the chemicals used to embalm and preserve the monks’ bodies. For each bite attack, roll a d10; any rolls less than 10 mean the attacker has accidentally ingested some of the embalming agents and provokes the following attack:Attack: +[monk's level] vs. Fortitude, ongoing [attacker's level] damage and slowed (save ends).
• All Red Monks gain the following ability upon a successful conversion:Rise Again – If a Red Monk is reduced to 0 HP by any attack that does not deal fire or holy/radiant damage, the monk is not destroyed, but falls prone and appears to be dead. At the beginning of its next turn, the monk may stand up with a number of hit points equal to its level plus five (hp = monk’s level + 5). The monk, while prone, may choose to delay doing this until later in the turn and/or encounter.
• Due to the nature of the embalming and slow decay of their bodies, all Dexterity-based skills and abilities take a -2 penalty. Endurance/Constitution checks are passed automatically.
• With the exception of Brother Ptolemy, all converted monks are under supernatural influence from those who performed the conversion ritual on them. On the very rare occasions where insubordination occurs, any attempts by a monk to resist following orders made by their converting monk take a -6 penalty on a Willpower check versus the other’s Diplomacy. For every conversion tier above that, give an additional -2 penalty. (Example: a monk wants to resist an order given by his converter’s converter’s converter, thus the penalty will be -6-2-2 = -10; it may help to think of it in terms of father/grandfather/great-grandfather or as a pyramid scheme)
• In order to better spread their influence, all Red Monks are trained by their order in Diplomacy. If a Red Monk is ever unmasked, that monk takes an immediate and permanent -4 penalty to all Charisma-based skills against anyone who happened to see their face. Any and all other monks take a -2 penalty versus those same individuals by association.

Brother Ptolemy by Nevermet Press is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License. Permissions beyond the scope of this license may be available at http://www.nevermetpress.com/contact.

[D&D, Dungeons & Dragons, Open Grave, and souled undead are property of Wizards of the Coast]

Portrait of a Villain: Brother Ptolemy & the Hidden Kingdom (part 1)

Written by Paul M. King
Edited by Cassey Toi
Illustrated by Paul M. King & Rob Torno

A gaunt form drifts through the crowd; dressed in robes of dark crimson, the colour of dried blood. A hood, pulled low, all but hides the tarnished glimmer of a smooth, featureless mask that covers his face. Cracks like shadowy veins spider across the facade, golden paint flaking away to provide a tiny glimpse to the ancient cedar beneath. Small bottomless wells of darkness fall into the mask, openings for the mouth and eyes, and continue to hide what lies beneath even in the harsh light of the noonday sun. Two figures, move in step with the first, flanking him on either side. They are all robed and adorned in the same manner and none who stand in the heavy aroma of incense and exotic spices left in the wake of their passing can spy a difference between them.

Duke Gerhardt von Brandt was a very rich and – his detractors would only begrudgingly admit – handsome man, two facts of which he was keenly aware. One evening, while preparing to entertain, he spied a greyhair in his ebony mane. An enraged von Brandt soon found himself consumed with searching for a means of preserving his youthful visage and vigor. He began to travel extensively, visiting repositories and practitioners of arcane knowledge, his desperation and determination growing with every dead end he encountered with every turn. Eventually, in the dusky light of a Far-Eastern back alley, von Brandt found himself handing over a tremendous sum of money to a ragged thief for an ancient dusty scroll. The scroll, the thief assured Gerhardt, held the secret to immortality.

Years passed, and von Brandt continued to travel, seeking experiences both wondrous and exotic. Being young, handsome and rich he never lacked for companionship. One night, while in a tavern he attracted the attention of a local beauty. Unfortunately, the beauty had a jealous, and rather inebriated, lover. A fight ensued, and a dagger found its way through Gerhardt’s ribs and into his heart. He staggered back; withdrew the blade and with a laugh he lept forward and buried the dagger in his opponent’s belly. As the man lay dying on the floor, Gerhardt von Brandt turned and walked out into the bitter cold night.

While Gerhardt travelled home he became increasingly aware of a smell that seemed to surround him. He attributed this to the stench of the road; but was dismayed to find that it continued to offend his senses even after he had returned home and bathed. His irritability grew further as each meal seemed blander than the last. He decided to stop eating; as he no longer grew hungry. One morning, while performing his daily grooming ritual, a clump of his luxurious dark hair came loose in his hand. Staring in horror, he noticed the texture of his skin was changing, it was more drawn than usual and beginning to take on discomforting pallor. He spent the following two days wandering aimlessly through the halls of his manor, clutching the clump of hair to his sinking, perforated bosom. On the morning of the third day, the duke gathered his staff, dismissed them and ordered them to vacate the premises immediately. Locking up behind him, Duke Gerhardt von Brandt departed on his final journey.

The drought is severe this season and the local farmers are hard pressed to keep up with the demands of the city, much less keep food on their own tables. The red monks had imported a large shipment of food and set up a soup kitchen in the center of the city; the line wrapped around nearly the entire square. A trio of monks enters the square and heads for the kitchen. One of them breaks off from the other two to stand on the raised dais where a statue to the city’s founder gazes out serenely over what he had wrought generations before. Gloved hands are lifted and the attention of nearly every person in the sullen, shambling line is turned towards him. “Brothers and sisters! We are happy to share all that we have with you! But know that this meal can only give but a temporary respite to the unending neediness of this world. There will always be hunger, pain and fear. This does not have to be! There is another way – a better way! You need not be hungry! You need not suffer! You need not fear, even death! Friends, these things no longer have any hold over us. We are free, and we invite you to share in our freedom.“

Dust coats every surface of the forsaken von Brandt manor. Vines snake across the walls and windows, strangling the sunlight. The gardens, once meticulously kept and manicured are now overgrown and resemble little more than self-contained patches of wilderness. A pair of rats meander lazily across the great foyer that once greeted nobility from nearly every corner of the kingdom. An unfamiliar scent causes one of them pause and sniff the air. Suddenly, a metallic scratch at the door causes them to spin about; a rasping click of the aged lock sends them scurrying for their nest. The front doors swing inward, sending forth a gust of incense and exotic spice that cause the cobwebs to billow. A gaunt, red robed figure walks silently into the manor and looks around. He turns and nods to a second figure, dressed in much the same manner as he, who begins to carry in the few possessions they’ve been travelling with – scrolls and books, mainly. The second figure hums quietly to himself, it is a tune he has not heard since his days as a thief living on the streets of a distant Eastern city.

Background

One must always be careful what they wish for; wishes have a way of being granted in ways we don’t anticipate or intend. In his single-minded quest to cheat death and live forever, the man formerly known as Gerhardt von Brandt conducted a ritual upon himself that sealed his spirit inside his body. While the ritual did indeed stop him from ageing and kept him from dying, it did nothing to prevent his body from expiring and decaying once it was fatally wounded. As his body deteriorated, so did his grasp on sanity.

After disappearing from his home, he sought out various masters of necromancy in the hopes of finding a way to reverse his condition. Failing that, he turned to master embalmers to preserve what little remained of his fleshly visage. Watching as his organs and bodily fluids were removed and replaced with wax, preservatives and exotic spices to mask the smell of death, von Brandt’s mind finally snapped. He was a prisoner in his own body, with no hope of release.

Over a period of time, von Brandt managed to achieve some small measure of lucidity as he studied necromantic teachings on death alongside far eastern philosophy. Death would no longer be a prison for him, but a release. He was no longer a slave to the needs and weaknesses of a living body, nor was he subject to pain or death by any natural means. And, it occurred to him, he need not be alone in this new existence of his.

Taking on a new identity for his new life – that of a monk named Ptolemy – he decided to spread the good news of his liberated existence. His first disciple was the thief who sold him the ritual, upon whom it was forcibly performed. Ptolemy then killed the thief’s body and immediately had him embalmed to prevent decay from setting in. The pair then returned to the long-abandoned von Brandt manor and set about laying the foundation for what would become known as the Hidden Kingdom.

To be continued later in part 2….

Brother Ptolemy by Nevermet Press is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License. Permissions beyond the scope of this license may be available at http://www.nevermetpress.com/contact.

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