Money of Wampus Country

Although in many localities barter is common, it is the dollar which makes Wampus Country go 'round.  Gold, silver, and copper coins are in circulation, as well as paper notes with a value equal to multiple gold coins.  Most frontier adults are savvy enough to recognize obviously fake or clipped coins; don't be surprised if some of your gold pieces have bite marks in them.

COINAGE is minted by multiple concerns, including the Silver Scorpion Casino in River-Town - which, as you know, is run by religious-types.  The Red Bear Lumber Company also mints its own coins.  Some mercenary groups or other collectives mint their own coins as well.  Any coin which is 'known' to be of the proper weight and value is generally accepted throughout the Wampus Country; counterfeiters have a tendency to meet with grisly ends.

Coins from the Western Kingdoms don't last long in Wampus Country without being overstruck or melted down.  Just as it is considered rude to even discuss the 'old countries', it is bad luck to carry Western coinage, and a grave insult to attempt to pay using it.  Strange foreign coinage (from Khelibesh, or Kax Ak, or someplace weirder or possibly off-world) is acceptable in most places so long as it's the proper weight - but even extraplanar money will eventually be overstruck by someone, or melted down as part of a $30 gold bar.  Some merchants keep a scale handy - if necessary, they can bite every coin, pile them onto the scale to get the total weight, and then discount the gold based on the vibe presented by the customer.

GOLD PIECES (1gp, $1) are minted in yellow or reddish gold, and are about the same size and weight of a modern American dollar coin or quarter.  The Silver Scorpion Casino (and associated Scorpion Cult) strike dollar coins with a scorpion on the obverse and varying designs on the reverse.  The Waterfront Collective (a merchants' guild in Frogport) issues gold pieces which are clad on the reverse in copper with the image of a frog; these pieces tarnish rapidly, as copper is wont to do, and are known as 'greenbacks'; despite this decoration, they are still valued at a single dollar each.  Several years ago, a fad arose whereby ladies and gentlemen of means would purchase (via catalog) a hand-crimping machine and contract a local artist to sculpt and cast a personalized die, so they could overstrike coins themselves.  This development has led to a wondrous proliferation of gold-coin designs recently, and helps explain some of the stranger ones seen in circulation.  Wealthy individuals may go so far as to strike commemorative birthday coins or the like, which they then hand out to party guests as a sign of their largesse.  A hand-crimp for overstriking, along with two custom dies, will set you back about $200.

SILVER PIECES (10 to the dollar) are similarly minted in silver or some amalgam; occasionally "silver" pieces which are primarily nickel or some other metal turn up, and these are typically valued at twenty to the dollar if they have appreciable silver content.  COPPER PIECES (100 to the dollar) are often well-worn copper slugs with little or no ornamentation.  Most are circular in shape, but those pennies flattened into oblong novelty talismans - at places like Thunderbolt Black's Action Show, or the Diamond Peacock bordello - are still considered acceptable currency.  Pennies are only rarely called "pence" in Wampus Country.

PAPER MONEY is fairly common on the frontier as well.  Several large businesses print their own paper notes, redeemable for coin, as a means of settling debts or paying their employees.  Paper money has some advantages in terms of portability, and tends to be printed in larger values.  Most paper notes are horizontally-printed on cotton paper and are of comparable size and shape to the modern American note.  Intricate and grandiose designs in colorful inks are common for paper money.

The notes vary in value (usually $10, $20, $50, $100) and color; many issued notes have acquired nicknames based on their value or appearance, such as the "lobster", "loon", "beaver", etc.  The "Fin", for example, is a five-dollar bill printed in blue and yellow and bearing the image of several fish.  The "Saw-Buck" is a crimson and orange paper note, worth $10, issued by the Red Bear Lumber Company and in use widely throughout the north.  The obverse depicts two loggers using a massive two-man saw to fell a tree; the reverse shows a majestic ten-point deer.  Although not often seen these days, there was previously available a hundred-dollar bill which showed a galleon at sail upon a raging ocean (a "sea note").

MONEYCHANGERS, as a profession, are quite rare in the Wampus Country, as they are culturally superfluous.  There are businesspersons who will gladly melt, mint, or overstrike someone else's coinage for a small fee, however.  PRIVATE BANKS are a new concept on the frontier - there are two young banking establishments in River-Town, both of which have begun issuing their own currency - which, of course, is in line with customer expectations as far as size, shape, and value of the notes.

The Marvel Kerfuffle

A couple really long days at work means the blog gets a rant.  That's just blog physics.

Unless your internet has been living under a rock lately, you're probably aware that the Marvel Heroic Roleplaying (MHR) game line has been cancelled.  You've probably also seen some commentary here and there - on the Plus, on various fora of ill repute - regarding this modern-day tragedy.  This industry development - and the fact that I sat down with a copy of the core rules directly after it - brings us to this post.  I don't usually do "industry stuff", but here 'tis, my (uninvited) thoughts on the matter.

I love superheroes, so it only makes sense that I enjoy the idea of supers rpgs - and I like Marvel Super Heroes (MSH, the FASERIP game) the best, for a number of reasons - chief being ease of use.  I disclose that now, for fear of appearing unduly biased moving forward with this post.

Here's the thing about the MHR cancellation: people straight-up freaked out.  Wailing, gnashing of teeth, the sort of thing we often see when a game line (or beloved television show) gets cancelled.  We also saw some individuals getting really grumpy at Marvel (and in some cases, Disney by extension), for apparently being horrible corporate meanies focused on profit instead of genius (see also: Firefly fandom and Fox, and all the good it did them).  Let me be clear about this: be mad at Marvel if you want, but it takes two to tango.  Margaret Weis Productions (MWP) signed some sort of contract and licensing agreement to get use of the Marvel IP for rpgs, and they knew full well what was in whatever agreement they signed.  Period.  Was MWP too ambitious?  Did something go wrong with the rollout of the line?  Short of getting MWP staffers really drunk, I'll never know, and that's fine (and it's none of my business anyway) [1].  Speculation is probably more fun than knowledge, that's a human nature thing.

I had flipped through the core book when it first came out, and put it back on the shelf.  It didn't seem to be for me.  Rereading it in the last week, that judgment stands - MHR isn't what I want in a supers rpg, and that's okay. Now brace for the compliment: MHR is exactly what MWP wanted it to be [2].  What do I mean by that?  It's a narrative-driven rpg affixed to an Event-driven marketing scheme (which mirrors the way Marvel's been doing comics for some time now).  MHR has lots of clever bits in it, I'll gladly acknowledge that (much in the same way my wife, allergic to cinnamon, can appreciate the beauty of the latticework on an apple pie, I suppose).  There is an elegance to the mechanics that even I can see, and I've no doubt that it does precisely what it was meant to do; but what it's meant to do isn't what I want a supers rpg to do.

Things that jump out at me about MHR that signal it's not a game for me:

* The narrative nature of it - plotting character arcs - doesn't scratch my itch.  Some folks dig that, and good on 'em.  I'm not going to whine that it isn't an rpg - but it's certainly on the avant-garde end of the spectrum, that's fair, right?

* The game is not laid out in a way which is friendly to new roleplayers whatsoever; it's full of fiddly bits which are not explained in a matter that makes it easy for an inexperienced rpger to pick up the concepts.  This dovetails into the (now well known, and only sort-of-accurate) complaints that MHR lacks 'proper' character creation.  I don't see the point in arguing about whether it does or doesn't, I think it's safe to say that the game certainly does not put the creation of original characters front and center.  Nor would it, as that wasn't a design goal (that much is evident).  I've seen some people complain about the "same-ness" of PCs, and I can see that, but I think that, too, was a design goal.  MHR is intended to be about the characters as ...well, characters in a story arc, not as PCs.   They're PCs, too, but they aren't measured by their ability to interact with the game world, they're measured by their ability to interact with the story which takes place in the game world.  There's a difference there. [3]

* The solo/buddy/team mechanic is clever, and is obviously in place to emulate certain aspects of comics writing-physics, but since I haven't actually played the game, I have no idea whether they actually work.  The core rules don't really address solo play, and I think a supers game that calls out the difference between "Spider-man in his own book" and "Spider-man when he's in an Avengers book" probably should - missed opportunity there.  This is just one feature of the game that I don't think gets enough explanation.

* The Event-based releases and marketing really turn me off, because they highlight the fact that the game is designed to default to 'theme park' rather than 'sandbox'.  Believe me, if there were better terms than those two, I would use them, but that's pretty much what I'm getting at.  The Event marketing is a big reminder that MHR is, at its heart, not about creating your own characters.  Would MWP have ever gotten around to releasing something that covered gadgeteer characters and building a superhero HQ?  These kinds of things are, to me, central to the supers rpg experience.  They take a back seat (like, three miles back on the highway) in MHR.  I think that strikes a mighty blow against player investment in a campaign.

We can ruminate all day on "what went wrong" with MHR, but really, it's not about what went wrong -- MHR does everything the designers wanted it to do.  It just isn't much of a supers rpg, in a wider sense.  Now, don't get me wrong, I know lots of people love the game and have run successful campaigns with it, and that's awesome (and I hope they continue to get good use out of the material post-cancellation).  But MHR is not for newbies, and it's not for kids.  And, again, that's the point.  A supers game like Marvel Super Heroes (FASERIP!) emulates the comics of its era (light, fun, four-color, action-driven, easy to pick up); whereas MHR, instead, emulates the comics of the last few years, after the advent of Bendis et al (dark, "adult", talky, character-driven, "serious", not as easy to jump into).  Which means I can easily (maybe too easily) make the same complaints about MHR that I tend to make about 21st-century comics and the seeming decline of that industry. [4]

And that, my patient rant-readers, brings us to the "what would I have done" part of the show.  What good is speculation without woulda-coulda-shoulda, right?  A very natural exercise, and one in which we certainly must partake - especially given the success of the Marvel movies.  It's totally reasonable to look at the MHR run and think "How could anybody have the Marvel IP and not make money?".  (Side-note: presumably MWP did indeed make some money with the IP - the situation is more complex than armchair quarterbacking, I get that - but second-guessing strangers on the internet is a thing we do.)

Okay, armchair quarterback helmets on.  How to do a Marvel rpg "right"? [5]

* Choose your target audience and design accordingly.  Note that MWP did this, they just chose a target audience of experienced hipster roleplayers (or maybe Quesada's people mandated that they target current comic book aficionados between 25 and 40, I don't know).  I would instead aim for a younger crowd, and design a simpler game.  If the simple game is successful, you can add complexity in degrees later.  Put it in a smallish box, call it the Avengers Adventure Game or something, and go from there.

* (Probable pipe dream) Work with Marvel to market your product as widely as possible.  The shelf at Wal-Mart and Toys-R-Us is your goal, not the shelf at the FLGS (sorry, FLGS).  If you have a younger-skewing intro type product, this looks more possible (but still a pipe dream, I know, I know).  Don't aim for people who have reserved boxes at the comic shop, you'll get them anyway.  Aim for the kids who watch Earth's Mightiest Heroes and Ultimate Spider-man.  Aim for the kids who were reading Marvel's (really quite excellent) all-ages books. [6]  Hell, you could do it all with art recycled from those books if you wanted, and you'd have a nice multicultural Avengers to play with instead of the "why is there only one girl and she has no powers" version we have in the movies; although tying-in with Earth's Mightiest Heroes (which is still published) would be awesome.

* I'd go boxed, given the option (this lines up with the Wal-Mart argument), and I'd put dice in there and little plastic superheroes and/or paper fold-ups, and a fold-out map to go with them.  Lots of different boxes (Iron Man, Thor, Hulk, Spidey, whatever), matching six-siders (red with gold pips for Iron Man, you get the picture).  Different box art and titles, but they all have the Avengers Adventure Game logo in the corner, and the basic rules (VERY SHORT) in the box, plus a book of adventures and villains, and the assorted doodads.  Collect 'em all.  If my Mom buys me Iron Man: Revenge of the Mandarin, and Johnny gets Captain America: Against HYDRA for his birthday, we're compatible and ready for a team-up immediately when we go over to Suzy's house and she runs the adventures from her copy of Incredible Hulk: Gamma Planet for us.  Bing-bang-boom, roleplaying game for kids, or for nerd-parents to play with their kids.  Put a Marvel comic (reprints, of course) in EVERY BOX.  Keep the price point as low as possible.  Do up a website with new content (an adventure, or villains with fold-ups, or assorted proper-scale papercraft) every week.  Think long and hard about how many people have incredibly fond memories of Heroquest as a gateway to 'proper' roleplaying.

The bottom line is that the future of Marvel fandom is not held by people my age arguing about how awful the Sentry is. [7]      It's here:

The MHR fans will get their Cortex Plus, and they'll be fine, and I wish them all years of great gaming with whatever system and setting they love best.


[1] - MWP staffers, I'm in Baltimore.  We have bars here.  We can make this happen.

[2] - The horrible snarky version is, of course, "MHR is everything MWP wanted it to be, except wildly profitable".  But that was on the mean side, so it goes down here in a footnote like some kind of confessional.

[3] - Again - and I guess I can't say this enough - MWP was very successful in achieving their design goals, that much is evident.  It's just that I don't (apparently) share any of their goals, so I don't get anything out of MHR.

[4] - MWP staffers, when we get trashed together, you'll hear this rant, as well as my Quesada impression.  Nothing to write home about, but probably pretty funny once we've been drinking.

[5] - You'll note how much of this resembles choices TSR made with MSH.  Complain about TSR all you want, but for a stretch there they really knew what the hell they were doing as far as riding the wave of the rpg fad and marrying that to a good license.  (You hush about Indiana Jones, obviously that's the counterpoint, but also look - the Indy game also made the suspicious choice of presuming you would play canon characters and not make up your own, which was surely a death-blow to WAITAMINUTE)

[6] - They have Stature ("Giant Girl") in them.  That is the coolest thing ever.

[7] - Really, really, awful.  Even before "the Rogue thing".

The Wild Cornucopia of Gloriana Majestrix

Many on the frontier pay passing homage to the goddess Gloriana, sometimes styled Majestrix, for she embodies the exploration of Wampus Country in many ways.  Gloriana is the bounty of the wilderness - the idea that all this food, lumber, and living space are just out there for the taking if one only has the courage to reach out and grab it.  Some farmers maintain a small shrine to Gloriana, for although they be agents of agriculture, they are keenly aware that their tamed land has been parceled out to them by the wilderness Herself.  Some adventuring-types also bow their heads to Gloriana Majestrix, although they may take her "go out and grab it" philosophy in a slightly different direction.

The goddess herself is pictured as a young (or sometimes matronly) woman clutching a cornucopia, sometimes accompanied by a shield on one arm or mounted upon her back.  Although sometimes drawn wearing a massive fruited bonnet, and other times with russet locks flowing in the breeze, she is inevitably barefoot.  On occasion she is accompanied by one or more brightly-colored birds, or by a swarm of bees.  Copper charms bearing the image of the Majestrix are sold in most towns as luck-charms, and wards against starvation while traveling.  In some ways Gloriana resembles a hearth goddess, using similar terminology - it is she who sits at a loom and weaves the fabric of the land, for example, she who stokes the fires beneath the mountain to keep the world warm.  Festivals acknowledging Gloriana Majestrix are held in the Spring and Autumn, and are themed around the planting and the harvest.  More than once in the past decade these festivals have been interrupted by black-clad assassins of death determined to act against the cult of Gloriana.

Clerics dedicated principally to Gloriana are but a mere handful, but they certainly make their presence known wherever they go; here they are delivering warm speeches on streetcorners, there they are tagging along with a posse of ne'er-do-wells and dragging something valuable out of the woods.  Some time ago in Thistlemarch, a priest named Roland made a bit of a name for himself around town by discovering, along with his fellow gentleman-adventurers, the forgotten subterranean abode of a long-dead sorceror.  Roland was affable, well-liked in town, and known for applying his cleverness to the constant problem of "how can we profit from this seemingly-unsellable loot?"  Sadly, he and his companions have not been seen in town in over a year - perhaps they are off on another quest, or perhaps they have been devoured by wampus-cats somewhere.

Townsfolk dress in elaborate food-related costumes for the Spring festival.

Gloriana's spirit-messengers are said to be resplendent avians which guide men to treasure or safety.

In a later installment we shall investigate the connection between the Gloriana cult and the rainbow-striped zebras, and perhaps look into a certain rare type of brutish lycanthropy associated with her worship.

Wampus Art!

The below sketches come from Theo Evans - very excited to have some art "in the can" for the Almanac (which proceeds sloooowly, but proceeds).

A dandy wizard of the Wampus Country

A dangerous lady.

A dapper fish-man of the Lakeborn.

Procuring art is its own adventure, especially for someone who's never done it before.  One of the things I've had to think about is a 'style bible' for when I start really commissioning artwork.  It's counter-intuitive for me - I would prefer to keep things as 'Marvel method' as possible, with minimal art direction, but because there are certain setting specifics, I'm probably better off having some guidelines on hand.  It's one thing to tell an artist "fantasy western", but if they come back with an illustration that contains a train in the background, that's a problem.

I'm trying to collect art to which I have publishing rights, and have compensated the artist.  There are plenty of gaming buddies who have volunteered free art, and that's an amazing thing to hear, but since the Almanac is intended to be a paid product, I'm leery about taking art donations at this time.  Down the line we'll probably be in "sketch for a free dead-tree copy" territory for those hardy volunteers, but that's down the line.

Household Fairies

Seed-brownies toil in the garden.

The Wampus Country is home to innumerable fairies, many of which are so small or minor as to avoid general notice; not every fey creature can command the respect of a rapacious devil-fairy.  However, each of them has their role to play in the byzantine ecology of the frontier, and savvy travelers are well-advised to be aware of the circumstances of their appearance, and means to appease them.  Fairies tend to fill roles which are associated with human foibles, obsessions, and concerns - today we take a look at fairies of food, and of cleanliness, both of which might be considered 'household fairies'.


FOOD-FAIRIES and KITCHEN-SPIRITS

Many frontiersmen know of the gastrognomes who live in the forests, but these fairies cannot be considered household fairies.  A proper household fairy's ecology and life-cycle is intertwined with human habitation; the common brownie is a good example.

Another often-observed type are the feast-heralds, friendly atomies which feed on the human feelings of joy and anticipation; it is no wonder that they make their appearance (and feed) immediately prior to dinnertime, or especially before a large family feast.  Many holiday suppers have been presaged by the appearance of tiny fairies dancing on a table, or charging across a kitchen floor, absorbing some of the ambient anticipatory energy.  Feast-heralds may be related to certain types of least sugar-plum fairies, who are also known to feed on the anticipation and hopes of children.

However, the fairy world does enjoy its dichotomies, so there are also lesser fairies who thrive on ruining meals, and the enjoyment thereof.  Some seem to be much like the malevolent redcaps, while others are pixie-like, but these "spoiler-fairies" universally enjoy the ability to sour milk, rot food, turn bread to mold, and make water unpotable, either by touch or simply by looking at it.  Various charms and wards are employed to avoid these creatures, with dubious efficacy.  Spoiling-fairies should not be confused with any of the several lesser spirits who actually steal human food; spoilers leave the food where humans can find it, so that they might feed on the disappointment, anger, and alarm at the time of discovery.

Straddling the categories of 'food fairy' and 'healing-spirit' are the pixies who combat overindulgence, attempting to aid humanity in an ongoing secret war against the Lords of Vice.  A tiny fairy may appear to a human whose belly is full (and sour) after a night of gluttony, and attempt to teach a lesson about self-control.  Interestingly, these fairies seem to feed not on the lesson learned, but on the human swearing "never again" - generating an ecological feedback loop wherein the pixie wants the human to accept its assistance, but not actually learn the lesson.


CLEANLINESS FAERIES

The human obsession with cleanliness is a reflection of Law - after all, "dirt" is merely matter which is arbitrarily considered to be "out of place" - and people spend a good deal of time ensuring that their habitats are comfortable and clean.  Many household fairies have adapted to this peculiarity by assisting in the cleanliness crusade, and these fairies are often welcome in the home.  Often working in groups, these pixies aid in cleaning, straightening, and the like - sometimes while the humans are absent.  Fairies of cleanliness need not appear as little people, and sometimes take animal form, or stranger shapes.  Specialization is the key to survival for these creatures, and a caste system has followed suit; fey spirits which scrub kitchens do not often deign to associate with those brownies who muck outhouses.  For a cleaning-fairy to have plenty of food, they need plenty of work, and thus must find a new area to clean, whether it's in the home, livestock, carriages, weaponry, or a particular part of the body.

Wizards who study such things have posited that many of these cleaning-fairies pay homage to a powerful seelie lord with demigod-level power.  A rumor circulating around River-Town suggests that this fairy lord has, on occasion, empowered a mortal champion of the Wampus Country to be his knight, riding forth across the land in pursuit of cleanliness.

A feast-herald fairy which has adapted to feed on the joy of household pets.

Spoiling-fairy, the bane of any kitchen.

Some sanctimonious pixies lecture humans on the evils of overindulgence.

Any household would be glad to host hard-working cleaning-pixies.

This cleaning-fairy has adopted animal and mechanical characteristics to aid in its survival in a very foul environment.

Another cleaning-pixie who looks after carriages; possible connection to the Lost Gods of the Sixty-Sixth Path.

A paladin of cleanliness.

Cleaning-fairies work in concert, using pack tactics and close coordination to attack dirt and grime.

Legends of a powerful cleaning-fairy ruler continue.

Scions of the Craft

A furtive student of the Most Ancient Art.

SCIONS OF THE CRAFT

Followers of the old ways - those who entwine their beliefs and goals with the ancient magics which surge and roil beneath the surface of the Wampus Country - have many names for their worldview and skills.  Some call it the Most Ancient Art; outsiders and wizards may deride it as a warped kind of Shamanism or Druidism; but most often, practitioners know their ways as "the Craft".  The secrets of this movement involve binding oneself to forgotten and dead deities, some of which no longer have names or faces; the initiate consumes the remains of a dead god, preserved in powdered form, and is thus changed.  Rainbow wizards know the powers of this art to lie somewhere between the vermilion and saffron portions of the infinite spectrum of magic.  Constant manipulation of this form of power stains the skin of the Crafter - first the fingers, from which most spells emanate, then the hair, and eventually the entire skin, which presents itself with an unnatural titian glow.

Masters of the Craft resemble striga, or land-witches, in that their magical powers are broad and are noted for shapeshifting and control of the elements; but whereas the striga are inexorably tied to the physical land, and the cycles of life, death, and the seasons, the Crafters are instead linked to magically-preserved dead gods, divorcing themselves completely from normal magical cycles.  Manifestations of the Craft better resemble clerical magics than arcane ones, but in truth these eldritch emanations probably predate both modern styles of magic.  Although children of the Craft occasionally gather in covens or cults, they typically are found as singles.

As the Crafter grows in power, he or she learns not only to fling preternatural spells and tame tempests, but also to rearrange their mass and take on mock animal form.  Unlike workers of proper nature magic, a student of the Craft does not attune himself with animal spirits in order to change shape; instead they merely move bits of their flesh and bone around at will, to attain a hideous bestial form. Repeated use of this ability will eventually turn the Crafter into a shambling, boneless imitation of its original form, with flesh "as velvet".  Dr. Runcible has suggested that, in time, a master of the Craft may devolve into something resembling an ochre jelly, and that there are connections between this chaotic magic and the city of Djelu.

Let there be no doubt that there is something inexorably wrong about the Craft, despite how tempting it might seem; it is a manifestation of Chaos which pretends to be order. Its very nature is contradiction: while associated with the north, its origins lie elsewhere; while it seems natural, it is unnatural.


PRACTITIONERS OF NOTE

The Lord of Wyrmcastle -- This insidious schemer, trained as a wizard, came to the Craft late in life.  Commanding a small army from his fortress northeast of Frogport, he had nearly achieved his apotheosis as a master shapeshifter when he was killed by local hero Sir Vallasen.  The Lord's castle is being rebuilt, but the tunnels and sepulchre beneath may yet hide Craft-related secrets; it is at this time not known whether his soldiers, who did not wear the traditional blue livery of a cultist, were also initiates of the Craft, as they were slaughtered to a man by Vallasen's band.

Cackling-Bull -- A monstrous minotaur, exiled by his highland clan, who turned to the Craft for power in aid of his revenge.  He wears gaudy jewelry, dyes his skin with the blood of his enemies, and works as a sell-sword on the extremes of the northern frontier.  By some reports, he singlehandedly destroyed a barbarian freehold, then laughed nonstop for hours as he burned the scores of corpses - thus earning his name.

Czestur -- A sinister rogue who has no qualms about subtle murder or open slaughter, as suits his needs, and has on several occasions recruited bands of brigands to serve as his 'muscle'.  Czestur is quick to warn new recruits that life in the Craft cult is fraught with difficulty and dangerous, but in truth, he revels in the challenge of being an outsider and a wanted man.  After exploration of the ancient feline monument of the plains, Czestur has himself adopted a rather feline form, although whether this is a side-effect of ancient magic or an affectation of his shapeshifting is unknown.  When in public, the fiend wears a set of magical spectacles which dispel fear and protect him from being mentally dominated; Czestur is known to carry a compliment of triangular, golden shuriken as a favored weapon.

The King-Beast -- One can only speculate how a large snollygoster could become familiar with the workings of the Craft, and gain sentience - or whether those events even occurred in that order.  Yet the fact remains that there have been multiple sightings of this creature, known as the King-Beast, and all observations confirm that he is in the late stages of transformation into a scion of the Craft, as his lumpen, waxy skin so ably demonstrates.  The King-Beast, in addition to his already-intimidating size and snollygoster qualities, is said to possess the ability to conjure forth a massive torrent of molten chaos-stuff which pours forth and destroys everything in its path.

The King-Beast, towering over the battlefield, signals its approval of the coming massacre.

The blackguard Czestur has been known to ally himself with all manner of dark and sinister forces.

Hearing the lowing chuckles of the minotaur Cackling-Bull can mean only one thing: your doom.

Editor's note:  "Mascot Mondays" will no longer be marked as such in the title, and may actually appear on Sundays.

Images of the Dead

IMAGES OF THE DEAD

based on ideas from Mrs. Wampus

It doesn’t take a necromancer to understand that images of the dead hold within them a strange power - the memories of lost loved ones well up when we spy even a face which slightly resembles them.  Memories are potent in the magical realm, and so too sympathetic links.  The wizards of the Wampus Country know well that sympathetic energies reside within images of the dead, and have explored their exploitation for centuries.

DEATH MASKS

Golden death-mask found in a subterranean ruin south of River-Town.  The mask is quite magical, granting clairvoyant abilities, but it also comes with a terrible curse.

Archaeological digs [1] have unearthed a number of death masks from the so-called ‘Peacock Period’ of our history, a time of warring sorcerous kingdoms.  The faces of monarchs and wizards alike were preserved with death masks composed of layers of gold flake, painstakingly painted and glued together in hundreds of layers.  The construction of a death mask was considered a devotional task, performed tirelessly over days.  These masks are true representations of the faces beneath, and bear strong magical correspondence.  Although not all death masks manifest sorcerous power, many do - and these abilities and curses are typically a reflection of the person whose image they bear.  

Experimental death-mask crafted by a modern wizard.

The death mask tradition has largely been eclipsed by current culture, but it has its descendants, in two very different places.  First, some secret societies - primarily those catering to necromancy-focused wizardly types - are reviving the masks, both in precious metals like silver and gold, and in more mundane materials such as plaster [2]  Who knows what nefarious research is being conducted at this very minute by scarlet-robed thaumaturges?  Masks also play an important role in the culture of several savage tribes in Wampus Country, primarily for ritual purposes.  Although the shamans of the Black Eagles and Cloud Rabbits both wear monstrous masks during certain dances and holidays, it is the shaman caste of the Red Sky People, known as Watchers, who have perfected the art of the death mask, perhaps inheriting it wholesale from the Peacock Period.  Watchers know the secret means of making death masks of colorful leather which preserve the honor and courage of a fallen warrior; this mask is then passed to the eldest son.  Many Red Sky braves charge into battle wearing their grandfather’s face, preserved in calfskin dyed in bright colors [3].

TINTYPE NECROMANCY

Death photo taken by a less-than-scrupulous wizard.  He claims his photographs prevent the dead from rising, which of course they can; but he can also use the tintype to query the spirit of the deceased regarding hidden monies and blackmail-worthy family secrets.

In recent years a few wizards have experimented in translating the death mask tradition to modern technology, by means of the art of “tintype necromancy”.  At base, this practice involves the same sorts of incantations and preparations employed in making a classic ensorcelled death mask; however, instead of creating a sympathetic link to the deceased via the painstaking creation of a physical mask, these modern wizards employ photography to snap a photo of the corpse (often posed in as lifelike a fashion as possible, to enhance the link).  Later magical processing of the tintype increases the sympathy and the magical potential of the item.

Memento Mori (wizard 2)

This ritual initiates the process of creating either a death mask or a tintype which is infused with sympathetic magic - a still-living link to the deceased.  Either actual physical contact with the deceased’s face, or an image as true as a photograph, is required; a painting or sculpture will not suffice to enact the magic.  The entire ritual takes 8+1d4 hours to perform - either making and enchanting the mask, or properly awakening the potential in the tintype.  The resulting object is the memento mori, which may be used as a sympathetic object or trigger for many other magical effects (including divination, or control of the undead).   One cannot make a memento mori of a creature which is already undead, or is ill-preserved.  Possessing an appropriate memento mori may increase the efficacy or range of a number of spells, at the DM’s discretion, such as protection from evil (if the evil force is the ghost or undead remnant of the person in the photo), dispel magic (when attempting to dampen said undead creature), remove curse, animate dead, contact other plane (when used to speak to spirits of the dead, if the DM allows it), reincarnate, and any number of other variant necromantic spells, where appropriate. The memento mori may also stand in as an appropriately-themed component when crafting a magical mask.

Footnotes

[1]  The fact that several of these archaeological expeditions involved stabbing subterranean creatures to death makes them no less scholarly a pursuit.

[2] One such group is the Simian Brotherhood, who are obsessed with unlocking ancient secrets of magic, in pursuit of power.  No group has delved deeper into the City of Mazes than they.

[3] Warriors of the Red Sky People may be treated as berserkers in all respects.