HIGH NOON SOMEWHERE (A Morning Stars Hexcrawl)
Another Glåugust Glogtember GLOGTOBER, post. From the famed Archon's Court: a small regional hexcrawl.
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| Ilya Zankovsky |
Maybe you found a ring, and thought yourself a more legitimate ruler than the average freebooter. Maybe you're just ambitious and own a map. Regardless, up the river from Merara Wiha, the throne of Dahay lays empty. The old king Dawit died three centuries ago, his firstborn Eskinder got an arrow through the eye socket, and his second was busy making deals with the DEVIL in exile, his name wiped from the record. Nobody came back to take up the scepter, the taxman got what he was due, and life went on.
Captain Natsinet came back from the war with a mind full of blood and sharp angles, if you define "war" as running an organized crime ring in his Imperial post on the isle of Yonah, moving poison, slaves, and embezzled arms across the eastern channel. When the meteor hit, he took it as a sign to get out of foreign territory and go back home to carve out a piece of security for himself- though the severed head of one of his men being thrown through his window certainly helped with that decision.
Of course, he had to make a few changes once he and his gang, the Rain Dogs, arrived in Meda. A few examples, too.
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| 6 miles to a hex. Features not to scale. |
Encounters
PCs can move through 2 hexes a day, or 3 if they forgo sleep.
Encounters have a 3-in-6 chance of occurring when a hex is passed through, reduced by 1 (minimum 1-in-6) if the PCs take pains to conceal themselves (camouflage, traveling under cover of night.)
- 2d4+2 Rain Dogs from 2.2, marching in unsteady formation. Reaction rolls indicate whether they act more like legitimate soldiers or bandits.
- 1d4 Djinn Horses (3 HD, AC as leather, 6 morale, +2 to hit, peck 1d6.) Not actually a horse, or even a mammal. Actually a kind of bipedal lizard, swift in stride and coated in feathers. Make decent mounts if tamed; while they're a bit stupid, they're much less picky about their food than normal horses.
- 1d6 Commoners from Meda, doing common things: fishing on the lake in 1.1, hiding out in the hills in 2.1, hunting for the Rukh's nest in 3.1, seeking advice from the stylite in 3.2, hunting or cutting wood in 2.3, grazing cattle in 1.2, or delivering tribute to 2.2.
- A Myrmecoleon from 2.1 on the hunt.
- The Rukh from 3.1, casting a huge shadow as it soars overhead. Prefers livestock, but will still go for people.
- Roll twice and combine. Situations ensue.
1.1 REED MARSH
The Meseniteki river splits and is split by the mountains, and half of it drains into this patch of flat wetland. Lungfish push through slick mud, flat-faced catfish lie in wait to snatch up birds in their bristling teeth, and both get caught and eaten by the people of Meda.
Gerlach, an elderly hermit, resides here in a reed-canopied boat. In another life, he was a soldier; now, he just collects venomous snakes, allowing them to slither and coil all over himself and his boat. He attributes his youthful appearance to his frequent snakebites, to which he has gained an immunity- at seventy years old, he looks only sixty. He'll eagerly give a half-tame snake away to anyone who asks, and offer one to anyone who doesn't.
He'd like a feather from the angel in 2.3 CEDAR FOREST, though he's cagey about why- he just offers to teach the language of snakes to anyone who brings it to him.
If the angel feather is brought to him, he swallows it, then whispers into the ears of the PCs, granting them all the ability to speak to serpents. He then lays down in his raft and pushes away from the shore. One hour later, his empty skin splits open and a hundred vipers with strangely human eyes pour out. They are all, individually, Gerlach.
1.2 MEDA
The two hundred residents of Meda are terrified. Captain Natsinet returned as a prodigal son, eager to support his hometown. Then, him and his men took the village headman up to the watchtower, tied an anvil to his neck, then shoved it over the side: a reverse hanging. At least it was over fast. Not everyone who got the same treatment was so lucky; the priest landed on her chest, and took hours to suffocate with her punctured lungs. Natsinet and the Rain Dogs made their examples, then moved into the old fort in 2.2. Now they only visit, and what they ask for, they get. Everyone saw the month of them proving what happens otherwise.
2d4+2 Rain Dogs are in the village at any given time. On a roll of 8 or higher, Captain Natsinet is present, guarded by Scarless in addition to four of the deserters.
Jang Aloïse, the miller, considers herself the last real authority figure. On the outside, she looks like a horrible old gossip who missed her calling as an evil witch. This is an entirely accurate assessment, but she's also strongly opposed to the Rain Dogs and whatever opportunists try to get their favor. They killed two of her sons, and would have killed her too, but even Natsinet isn't vicious enough to murder an old lady. Those that earn her trust learn of a disused, overgrown tunnel in 2.2 FORT leading into the fort's cellar. She can also be asked for other information on the Rain Dogs, or spread a false rumor to trick them, but there's a cumulative 1-in-6 chance she gets caught and Natsinet decides he's not actually above executing elderly dowagers.
When the PCs first arrive in Meda, Jacobus the porter (Burl A, 7 HP, AC as unarmored, 6 morale, +0 to hit, medium club) will be subjected to a reverse hanging by three Rain Dogs for killing one of their fellow deserters with an axe handle after the deserter tried to shake him down. Anyone who aids Jacobus in an escape will have his undying loyalty and gratitude. He will direct them to the militia hideout in 2.1 HILLS, where he will flee whether he is accompanied or not; if he goes alone, there's a 2-in-6 chance he'll be caught and executed by the Rain Dogs, a 2-in-6 chance that one of the ants eats him, and a 2-in-6 chance that he actually makes it.
2.1 HILLS
These hills are full of Myrmecoleons and their burrows, where they lay their eggs in the corpses of cattle and other large animals for their larvae to feed on.
One burrow, fortified with a wooden palisade and piled stone, is home to the ten remaining members of Meda's militia (1 HD, AC as leather and shield, 7 morale, medium spear and shield) and their de facto leader Aristomache (Warrior A, Common Killer, 8 HP, AC as chain, 9 morale, +2 to hit, medium falx and pistol [1d10, -1 to hit for each 20' past the first, takes a minute to reload.]) Aristomache was never all that fond of Meda, given that she's an ophiokore and they always considered her a useful-if-nothing-else outsider, but being put to rout by Natsinet and having to live in a hole aggravates her to no end. It would take no convincing to get her to act against him, only a plan and the means to execute it. She has no interest in suicide missions or being used as bait. If the PCs have no ideas or need some extra power, she'll point them towards the shrine in 2.3 CEDAR FOREST; it's where the first king was buried, along with some kind of magical insect or substance--the translation she heard wasn't clear--which could eat through stone like it was nothing. No wall or foundation could hold up to a weapon like that, if it's real.
The militia keep the Myrmecoleons away by harvesting the ants' glands and anointing themselves with distress pheromones. If the PCs hunt down an ant and bring the abdomen back to Aristomache, she'll demonstrate how to do this. A Myrmecoleon contains 1d3+1 doses of this pheromone, which forces them to make a morale test to approach anything anointed with it. Each dose remains effective for 24 hours after harvest, or up to a week if kept in an airtight container.
Myrmecoleon
4 HD (18 HP), AC as plate, 6 morale
Not a chimeric ant-lion hybrid; a huge ant covered in bristling golden hairs, complete with a "mane". Not actually an ant, either- they're actually a kind of solitary wingless wasp. Myrmecoleons drag corpses back to their nests and lay their eggs inside so their larvae can eat them- this gives them a reputation for greed, as their nests often have bits of loose coinage and other indigestable goods scattered among the bones.
Movement: Lumbering, but capable of an impressive straight-line sprint. Loses no speed over slopes and rough terrain.
Morality: No.
Intelligence: Again, no.
Attacks: +4 to hit, one bite (1d8+1) or one sting (1d6+1, test HRTS or take a -4 penalty to all actions for the next 1d6 hours from agonizing pain.)
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| Wikimedia Commons |
This nest has (roll twice):
1-3. Nothing but bodies.
4. 3d6 SP, in halves and quarters.
5. A medium weapon, in notched but usable condition.
6. A jewel, gold chain, or other priceless heirloom worth 50 SP.
2.2 FORT
Once the home of the Sun King Dawit of Dahay, this stout, boxy fortress on a hill is occupied by Natsinet and the Rain Dogs- named so because like dogs after rain washes scents away, they no longer know their way home. The west wall was blown open by cannonfire, and has been reinforced with a spiked wooden palisade.
The Rain Dogs total out at fifty men, although only thirty hang around the fort at any given time, keeping watch for the Rukh and doing drills in the courtyard. They have two cannons at their disposal, a pair of small falconets (2d10 in a 200' line, SAVE to not get hit, take a minute to reload) with enough balls and powder for eight shots. One is kept atop the tower, parts of the stonework smashed out to give it a more clear line of fire, but the other has to be slowly wheeled around inside the walls to be fired through the now sledgehammer-widened arrow slits. This fort was created long before guns came into use, and it shows its age.
When he's not in 1.2 MEDA, Captain Natsinet is here with his bodyguard/hitman Scarless, a fellow killer from Yonah he roped into his company. They share a disturbingly silent rapport. Scarless will kill with nothing but a glance.
Natsinet keeps his elderly father Henok imprisoned in the fort's cellar, intent on getting him to admit some kind of pride in his son's actions. Henok, for what it's worth, is horrified- Natsinet got into a bit of petty crime as a boy, but he seemed to straighten up once he signed on to the regular army. His return was the best news Henok had known in nearly a decade, especially with the death of his wife Margaretha and the years of silence from his son, then the little bastard went and started murdering people. Still, he cannot bear to see his son harmed, nor the other way around.
A long tunnel leads from a dense thicket by the river to the cellar. The end by the river is open, but the way into the cellar was bricked shut a long time ago. The mortar is weak, but it would be hard to smash the wall down quietly.
The full wealth of the Rain Dogs, kept in a locked chest in Natsinet's chambers, totals out at 764 SP in clipped-and-cut silver Moons and strings of golden Suns.
Rain Dogs
1 HD (4 HP), AC as leather, 7 morale
Deserters from the Imperial regular army, still dressed in ragged black-on-white with linen gaiters and wide-brimmed kettle hats.
Movement: As human.
Morality: Lacking, but disciplined. More interested in extortion than murder.
Intelligence: Average.
Attacks: +1 to hit, one medium hwando or pistol (1d10, -1 to hit per 20' after the first, takes a minute to reload.) Rain Dogs with 6 HP carry muskets (2d6, -1 to hit per 40' after the first, takes a minute to reload.)
Scarless
3 HD (14 HP), AC as leather, 9 morale.
May also be translated as Blank, Unmarked, or Infant. A mystery, silent as death- not that he can talk, anyways, not with his tongue cut out. A hated criminal and traitor among his people, but he must have gotten an early start; he does not have the ritual scarification which most dovemen get on reaching adulthood, only those that life gave him.
Movement: Climbs and leaps like a monkey with a wingsuit.
Morality: So negotiable it doesn't exist. An unflattering stereotype of a nihilist: "nothing means anything so I can kill without reason or remorse."
Intelligence: Not that sharp, but always listening and always thinking.
Attacks: +1 to hit or +5 for a sneak attack, one long rifle (2d6, -1 to hit for each 60' past the first, takes a minute to reload, cannot be fired while moving,) one shotgun (2d8, -1 to hit for each 40' past the first, -1 damage per point of AC above 12, takes a minute to reload,) or one hatchet (1d6, or 1d8+4 at if he's making a sneak attack.)
Classed: Scarless has the abilities of an Assassin ABC. He has a 3-in-6 chance of succeeding on checks to Climb Sheer Surfaces, Find Or Remove Traps, Hear Noises, Hide In Shadows, Move Silently, Pick Pockets, and Pick Locks in addition to the standard d20 roll. He can make sneak attacks against unaware or distracted targets. He has advantage on attacks against those lower in the initiative order than him (14), can disguise himself excellently, and given three hours of study can effortlessly mimic handwriting and physical mannerisms. Vocal mimicry is off the table for him for obvious reasons.
Fragile: Due to his hollow bones, Scarless must make a HRTS check (+2) or be stunned for a round if he takes 4 or more bludgeoning damage from a single source.
Captain Natsinet
3 HD (16 HP), AC as chain and shield, 8 morale
Tall, thin, and starting to grey at the temples, Captain Natsinet would project an air of military dignity if not for his glassy-eyed maniac stare. Something went wrong with him, or maybe there was something wrong with him in the first place, but he learned quickly that it was just as easy to inflict himself upon his countrymen as it was to inflict himself on foreigners.
Movement: Slow, deliberate- hiding his bad knee.
Morality: A gangster turned warlord. No longer has to even pretend to be civil, just too terrifying to raise a hand against. Like people, honor is a tool he can pick up and throw away.
Intelligence: Smarter than most, but dulled by his own sadism. Active, not reactive.
Attacks: +3 to hit, one attack with a pistol (1d10, -1 to hit per 20' after the first, takes a minute to reload,) or the shotel ROPE OF SAND (1d6+2 at +4 to hit. Ignores shields, can't be two-handed. If struck by a magical effect, ROPE OF SAND allows its wielder to forgo their next attack to add their to hit bonus to their SAVE. ROPE OF SAND is a +1 medium sword, which has already been factored into these stats.)
Classed: Captain Natsinet has the abilities of a Warrior ABC with the Common Killer Tradition. He acts first in initiative except against his fellow Warriors, can reduce the damage of one melee attack per round by 1d4+3, and his attacks cleave.
2.3 CEDAR FOREST
Tall trees, larger than they should be. This is an old growth forest where there shouldn't be one, dim as twilight even at high noon. Nobody lives here; all logging is done at the edges, where the trees are of a more manageable size for axes and saws.
An angel resides here, a cart wheel-sized triskelion of burning pearlescent wings that drifts aimlessly between the trees. Due to its presence, everything in this hex ages twice as fast- those who cut wood here can attest, pointing out premature wrinkles and pale scars. Any attempt to harm it fails, and any attempt at communication is only met with strange sounds (electric typewriter and theremin) and unrecognizable flaming glyphs in the air. If, God forbid, you touch the angel, age 1d10 years with no SAVE.
Someone who touches the angel could pluck off a feather, brilliant and alight with heatless fire, so delicate it feels like it could dissolve in the hand the moment it's left out of sight. This is true. The person who plucked the feather knows this with utter certainty.
Deep in the center of the Cedar Forest, amid a clearing where sunlight shines through the bough of mighty trees, two sets of stairs lead down from a small, rarely-visited shrine of PROVIDENCE.
Tomb of the Line of Samuel
5' to a square. 
1. Sunlight filters in through a circular 5' grate in the roof, reflecting off a deep pool of rainwater in the center of the room where generations of frogs, minnows, and insects have lived and died. In 1A, a statue of King Samuel, first Sun King of Dahay, raises a stone sword to the sky. Above his head, small Eastern text reads:
THOSE WHO WOULD FOLLOW ME, CHASE THE SUN FOR THREE DAYS AND ONE LESS
Getting close enough to read the text risks agitating the Jaculus that coils around the statue's arm up to the sword.
Jaculus
3 HD (12 HP), AC as chain, 6 morale
A snake ten feet long and as thick as a man's leg, with sharp-edged scales and a head like a javelin. Tiny vestigial legs cling to its sides.
Movement: Can leap fifty feet in a single bound. Otherwise, snake.
Morality: Snake.
Intelligence: Snake.
Attacks: +3 to hit, one leaping strike (1d6+2, 50' range,) or two unimpressive bites (2).
2. Four tall stone coffins fill the first four alcoves from right to left, the faces and names of four successive kings carved into them: Gebre, Senai, Zeray, and Isayyas. Each coffin is sealed with beeswax, holding in honey that has long since crystallized. The four kings all wear death-masks of thinly-beaten gold worth 20 SP, along with an assortment of rings, necklaces, and circlets worth an additional 20 SP each.
The kings will all awaken as undead if disturbed, their minds and bodies elmbalmed by their burial. If their grave goods are already being stripped away by would-be tomb robbers, they react with confusion and hostility. If the Signet Ring of Dahay is presented to them, the kings cease all hostilities and briefly kneel to their apparent successor.
Mellified Kings
2 HD (8 HP), AC as leather, 8 morale
Shuffling dead in crunching honey-soaked wrappings, their golden death-masks expressionless and their blades still keen-edged.
Movement: Stiff.
Morality: Proud and imperious. Obliged to repay acts of respect.
Intelligence: Hollowed out. Barely remember who, where, or when they are. Can't speak, but can still write.
Attacks: +2 to hit, one medium sword of varying types.
Undead: The Mellified Kings do not sleep, breathe, eat, or drink. They must check morale to enter sunlight.
3. The walls and ceiling here are carved with constellations and constellations, paint having long since faded and flaked off. An impressive brass orrery with the sun, moon, and earth sits in the center of this room. Turning any part has more resistance than expected, like there's a hidden weight to it all. Something in the floor faintly rattles when it moves.
If the sun is turned 1080° clockwise, then 360° clockwise, the hidden door to 4 slides open. If the directions are reversed, it shuts.
4. A glass sarcophagus sits atop a low stone dais, filled with crystallized honey. Inside is King Samuel, six centuries dead but still as fresh as he was when he was carried bleeding off the battlefield. At the sides of his sarcophagus sit a pair of mummified Dire Fowl.
Able to see through his sarcophagus, King Samuel will push the lid open and begin to rise if he sees any intruders. He obviously hates tomb robbers, but would be willing to fight in a one-on-one duel without his birds or crown beam against an honorable opponent. Those bearing the Signet Ring of Dahay immediately get his curiosity, and he'd be willing to fight in a less-lethal duel to nominate a worthy successor if he learned his lineage was dead.
King Samuel’s death-mask is thick and well-made with green glass eyes and pearl teeth, putting it at a value of 80 SP. His rings and necklaces are all solid gold, another 100 SP in total. The crown on his head is a fine piece that allows its wearer to shoot out a beam of burning sunfire (1d6 damage in a 20' triangle or a 40' line, SAVE to avoid, forces morale checks from things which fear the sun,) once a round. On a chain around his neck, in a small leaden box, is the shamir. The shamir is a small trilobite made of solid sapphire, curled up in a ball when inactive. Once a day, if tickled on the back and presented to an inanimate object, the shamir unfurls and disintegrates a volume of up to 250 cubic feet (a 5'×5'×10' rectangular prism, for quick reference) of inanimate matter. Carving out shapes more complex than cubes or cylindrical tunnels will require a SKLL test from the holder. The bug is not an artist.
King Samuel
4 HD (24 HP), AC as chain, 10 morale
Unembalmed and immaculately preserved, but he still wears a golden mask to hide the grievous wound that nearly bisects his face. His lamellar armor still shines, and on his golden crown a cockerel crows at a ruby sun.
Movement: Swift in stride, as any warrior should be.
Morality: Brave, noble, and politely dismissive of women- a category which, to him, is defined as anybody who isn't some type of fighting-man. He would be very bitter if he learned his village was no longer ruled by a king, but still wants to protect his small realm.
Intelligence: Foggy. Struggles to form new memories, but is generally lucid. Has a hard time speaking, as his upper jaw is shattered.
Attacks: +4 to hit, one attack with his heavy grain flail (1d10+1) or one crown beam (1d6 in a 20' triangle or a 40' line, SAVE to avoid.)
Undead: King Samuel does not sleep, breathe, eat, or drink.
Embalmed Fowl
1 HD (5 HP), AC as leather, 8 morale
A pair of mummified giant roosters, their lack of feathers giving them a distinctly vulture-like appearance. Their spurs remain terribly sharp.
Movement: Clumsy and flightless.
Morality: Death has done nothing to improve their temperament.
Intelligence: Still birdbrained, but trained to attack on command.
Attacks: +2 to hit, one spur (1d6+1.)
Undead: The Embalmed Fowl do not sleep, breathe, eat, or drink. They must check morale to enter sunlight.
3.1 RUKH
Here, hidden among the mountains, the Rukh nests in the burnt-out shell of an ancient shrine to Thunder Over the Mountain. Over the years it has separated shiny objects from the remains it takes back, leaving 1200 SP of loose coins, jewelry, ornaments from the shrine, and other valuables scattered among piles of useless but shiny metal bits.
Even in such a destitute state, the Thunder's attention is still focused on this place. Whoever places the Rukh's head on the central altar will be struck by a bolt of lightning, vaporizing the creature's head but leaving no lasting harm but a branching scar across their hand. One so marked can, once a day, conjure and throw a lightning bolt (3d6 in a 100' line, SAVE to avoid) from that hand.
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| I don't think I can stress enough how gormless this thing look- STOP STEPPING ON THE FLAVOR TEXT |
Rukh
11 HD (55 HP), AC as leather, 6 Morale
The king of all birds, the eater of elephants and men. Known to love jewels or anything else that glimmers in the sun.
Movement: Moves like giraffe on the ground, and flies faster and more gracefully than anything that large should. Must land to attack.
Morality: Large predatory reptile. It is hungry and you are food.
Intelligence: Stupid. Could fall for a decoy if it looked, sounded, and smelled like a human.
Attacks: +8 to hit, one swat (1d8, MOVE test or get knocked prone) and one peck (2d10, 3d10 damage against prone targets.)
3.2 STYLITE
A mile-diameter patch of yellowed foliage and bare earth breaks up the grassland, interspersed with rusted swords sticking up from the ground. Seated atop a stone pillar in its center is the Stylite (Negationist ABCD, 15 HP, AC as unarmored, +5 to hit, +3 STR) skinless and frighteningly muscular under white robes flapping in the wind. They've spent the last decade here and have no interest in leaving, meditating on an infinite garden of briars and dead trees where they converse with the Saints at their (lack of) pleasure.
Several townsfolk from Meda have sought the Stylite for help, but their pleas have fallen on deaf ears. The Stylite's concerns are well beyond the material, and Natsinet and his men are a very material threat. What's another cruel king? If the people of Meda hate him so much, maybe they should kill him themselves.
Those who would swear themselves to the great God DENIAL get an offer. The Stylite tosses down their old sickle, dark with blood and burn marks. Someone who gives themself the First Seal right then and there loses 3 points off a random physical stat and takes a lethal wound, but immediately gains the Negationist A template.
Special thanks to Federal Agent Make-Believe for some great discussion. I wish him a speedy recovery from being Australian.
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