Showing posts with label TOWR. Show all posts
Showing posts with label TOWR. Show all posts

Wednesday, March 11, 2026

Wasted Lands: The Dying Age

Wasted Lands RPG
 In my rereading of many of the classic Appendix N titles, I have come around again to Jack Vance's Dying Earth. The Dying Earth genre is not one I spent much time with back in the heyday of my D&D/AD&D playing life in the 1980s, but one I came upon much later. 

Honestly, my first foray into this sub-genre of fantasy began with Clark Ashton Smith's Zothique tales. I later moved on to Vance and to other end-of-time works like the Dancers at the End of Time by Michael Moorcock, and even the ideas about it from the DC/Vertigo Comics Books of Magic. This also led me to Lin Carter's Gondwane tales and Gardner Fox's Kothar. Even the earliest story of all Dying Earth tales, H. G. Well's The Time Machine. 

What I find most fascinating about these works is that they are not just "post-apocalyptic." In fact, they are far more alien and mystical than that. We are not dealing with a world that is recovering from a disaster. We are dealing with a world that is simply old and run-down. Civilization has risen and fallen so many times that history itself is legend, and legend itself is rumor. Sorcerers are those who remember things that nobody else remembers, ruins are piled on top of even older ruins, and magic is something that nobody is quite sure how to stop.

These worlds are, in many ways, a mirror to many of the settings that we start with in our own works of fantasy. We love to start with a "fresh" setting. We love to start with a "fresh" kingdom. We love to start with a "fresh" magic. We love to start with a "fresh" hero. We don't start with a tired kingdom. We don't start with tired magic. We don't start with a tired hero.

Throughout my writing here, I've touched upon this genre a bit, sometimes intentionally and sometimes unintentionally, by circling around it. I've written about my time spent in Zothique, Vance's strange future Earth, and games like Astonishing Swordsmen & Sorcerers of Hyperborea, which draw upon that sense of weird future-antiquity. Indeed, even my writing about fantasy worlds and future lands touches upon this idea in some way. But what if fantasy isn't set in a distant past, but in a future beyond all human imagination?

This idea gave rise to a game idea that has been rattling around in my head for a bit now.

Wasted Lands: The Dying Age

The Wasted Lands: The Dreaming Age RPG already gives us a mythic prehistory. It is a world of early civilizations, rising gods, ancient magic, and heroes who will eventually become legend. It is a world before recorded history, a time in which the myths of humankind are still being written.

But what of the last in that series?

What does the last mythic age look like?

This question gave rise to Wasted Lands: The Dying Age.

While the Dreaming Age marks the beginning of history, the Dying Age marks its end. Not centuries, not thousands of years. millions of years. More time between the Dying Age and us than between the Dreaming Age and us. The Dying Age is set so far in the future that everything familiar to us in the present day has become legend. The continents have merged yet again, one last time, into one last supercontinent, perhaps Pangea Ultima or Novopangea. The seas have risen and fallen and risen and fallen and risen yet again. The mountains have been uplifted and worn down many, many times.

The Last Continent

The sun is growing old. In the sky above, it shines larger and redder than it did before. The days are longer and hotter, the seasons are stranger, and in the night sky, there are wonders beyond what our ancestors could have seen. The Moon, a constant companion to humanity since the Dreaming Age, is gone. Its recession from Earth since the dawn of time has reached a critical point, and it has been thrown free of Earth's gravity. Out there in the dark, beyond all of our worlds, patient observers can see the first hint of light from the Andromeda galaxy growing brighter as it moves closer to our own Milky Way. The heavens themselves are changing now.

Yet still, human beings linger on in a barely perceptible way.

Perhaps there are only a few thousand of them left, scattered across the surface of the Last Continent. They live in scattered cities, in wandering tribes, in strange little cultures built around traditions nobody really understands anymore. They remember a few of the old things. They tell tales of empires that perhaps existed a million years ago. They dig in ruins older than their own language.

And here is magic in the world.

Perhaps there has always been magic in the world, waiting patiently in the ruins of forgotten cultures. Perhaps it is returning now that the world is growing thin with age. In the Dying Age, there are sorcerers. They are not scholars, but archaeologists of the magical arts. Every single spell they use is from some civilization that perhaps existed a million years ago, or a cult that nobody really understands anymore.

The world itself is changing, too. The great beasts that used to rule over Earth are gone now, victims of a million years of slow decline. In their place, other creatures have risen to assume their places, giant arthropods and stranger creatures.

A farmer might hitch a wagon to a massive stag beetle instead of a mule. Herds of enormous cockroaches are raised for their surprisingly nutritious milk. Armored millipedes crawl through the forests like living trains of chitin. Some cities even keep domesticated mantises as guardians or war beasts. Giant ants and giant termite war with each other across the vast internal desert of the Last Continent. I have not figured out a replacement for horses yet. I am thinking of something akin to a smaller animal grown large, like a hare or jackrabbit. I do have giant riding bats, though. 

There are humans, now millions of years after us, who have evolved into other shapes, and some are only slightly recognizable as human. These will be my orc, goblin, and troll standins. 

It is strange, unsettling, and yet somehow perfectly natural in a world that has lasted for billions of years.

The Dying Age is not a despairing age, though it might seem that way to an outsider. No, it is something closer to quiet endurance. Humanity has survived ice ages, extinctions, and the rise and fall of countless civilizations. It may yet survive the long twilight of the sun itself. There is melancholy here and a general sense of ennui, but there are still humans fighting against the dying of the light.

The stories told in this age are not about building kingdoms that will last forever. Nothing lasts forever anymore. No, they are about what still matters when the world itself is nearing its final chapters. And perhaps the stubborn refusal to disappear quietly.

In many ways, the Dying Age is a completion of a circle that begins in the Dreaming Age. One is present at the birth of myth. The other is present at its final echo. Between them lies all of human history, from the first fires lit in a dark age to the last red sun setting over the last continent.

And yet, in that distant future, under that ancient red sun, there are still adventures waiting to be told.

The Dying Age: Mechanics

Here is where I get to cheat. Wasted Lands: The Dying Age is mechanically no different from Wasted Lands: The Dreaming Age. This is just a different campaign model. Though the idea of Divine/Heroic Touchstone should be addressed. In the Dreaming Age, these are gifts of power that bring the characters closer to their divine apotheosis. In Thirteen Parsecs, they are also used to help define heroic characters. 

In the Dying Age, heroes take on a different tone. At first, I wanted to avoid using them, but in truth, they are loved by the players and me. So if there is a pervasive, light feeling of melancholia here, then these are the rewards for the characters who say, "No. I am not dead yet."

Even though I stressed this setting is not Post-Apocalyptic, I can see using some ideas from Gamma World here in search of lost civilizations. 

There are no cosmic horrors here. There are old gods, but their worship is more akin to sacrifice and cults than organized religion. The world is far too decadent and too old for that. 

The reasonable question arises. Why use Wasted Lands when Hyperboria 3rd edition (or any edition) does exactly this? The answer is largely, I have grown to like Wasted Lands more. Plus, I love the rather perfect symmetry of using Wasted Lands for both the beginning and ending of the human saga.  

Larina the Witch of Ashes / The Ash Witch
Larina: The Ash Witch

The Doctor: At the end of everything, we should expect the company of immortals, so I've been told.

- Doctor Who: Hell Bent

I could not help but notice a trend in the various "end of time" tales that have been featured in my re-exploration of Appendix N. We have Fox's Red Lori, Vance's Javanne, and Carter's Queen of Red magic. What do they all have in common? They are all powerful red-headed witches.

Yeah. I noticed.

One of the first things I did was create a version of Larina here at the end of time. Why her and not, say, a new witch? I liked the idea of a character who could remember bits of all her past lives, something of a Larina Ultima. If Larina of the Wasted Lands: The Dreaming Age is something of an Ur-Larina, then this is her ultimate form. In this world, she is a seeress and a prophetess, though she will admit that her sight is limited because there just isn't that much future actually left. 

In the far future of Wasted Lands: The Dying Age, Larina still exists, but she is no longer the vibrant witch of West Haven or the wandering occult scholar of earlier ages.

She is known simply as The Ash Witch. 

Like many of my GMPCs, she serves as a witness to the age. She appears to the PCs at strange moments, offering warnings, riddles, or fragments of half-remembered lore. Sometimes she seems to know them already. Sometimes she speaks as though she remembers lives that have not yet happened.

Unlike many of her other incarnations, this Larina is not trying to change the world. There is nothing left to change. 

Here, she also makes the last stand with The One Who Remains. 

She does know a truth. That when the last ember of this universe fades, something new will ignite. And witches have always been good at tending embers. She is the witness of the end and the midwife of the new beginning. 

Currently, I have a group playing NIGHT SHIFT. I might convince them of a Wasted Lands: The Dying Age one-shot. But it is a world I am certainly going back to. 

Monday, February 16, 2026

Barking Alien's RPG CAMPAIGN TOUR CHALLENGE! Day 16

A stylized fantasy miniature of Kelek, an elderly male wizard standing on a round stone base. He is bald with a long white beard and thick eyebrows, wearing a black robe trimmed in red with wide sleeves lined in purple. In one hand he holds a glowing green staff topped with a skull, and in the other he grips a short green wand. A small green book rests at his feet.
Day 16 - Direct Threats

Day 16-Are there any direct threats?
Who or what in your campaign actively means the people in it - including the PCs - harm?

Elowen’s Journal

"When people ask about threats, they usually mean something with teeth. An army. A monster. A name you can point to and say, 'that one.' I don’t think it works that way here.

There are names that change a room's temperature when spoken. You can feel it in your skin, like a window just opened somewhere you didn’t see. Even the ghosts react to some of them. They fall quiet. Or they leave. That scares me the most. 

Kelek is one of those names. I don’t know much about him. Only that he hates witches, and that hatred feels old and practiced, like a blade sharpened over generations. The ghosts that remember him do not scream. They whisper. That somehow feels worse. 

I also always hear awful things about Skylla, but the few times I have met her, she didn't seem that terrible to me. 

There is someone called the Bone Man. I don’t know if that is his real name or just the one that survived him. He wants the magic of West Haven. Not the people. Not the land. Just the power that leaks out of everything here, whether we want it to or not. Ghosts do not like him. They do not like to say why. They do not like to be around when he is talked about.

East Haven scares me in a different way. Not because of monsters, but because of certainty. There are men there who believe witches should not exist at all. Not regulated. Not controlled. Erased. The ghosts from East Haven carry a lot of unfinished anger, and none of it is aimed at the right people.

Then there is Katrina.

She is on our side. I know that. She has saved my life. She has saved Aisling's life more than once. But she wants a world that belongs to witches alone, and when she talks about it, I understand why. I also understand why Larina listens carefully and says very little in response. Those two are going to have a fight one day, and I am not sure who is going to come out on top. 

The most frightening threat does not have a name I am supposed to write down.

There is something the ghosts sometimes circle around without touching. Something they remember only in pieces. A presence that does not rage or conquer or declare itself king. It waits. It remains. Even Larina does not speak its name. At all.

If there is a single truth I have learned, it is this: West Haven is not threatened by invasion. It is threatened by people who want to define it. Control it. Simplify it. Turn it into something smaller and easier to rule.

The monsters are real. So are the ideologues. But the most dangerous things are the ones that believe they are right forever."

Designer’s Notes

Direct threats in West Haven are intentionally asymmetrical. Some are personal. Some are ideological. Some are cosmic. None should be what the characters or even the players expect. 

Kelek represents institutionalized hatred of witchcraft through arcane authority. Skylla is a cautionary tale for witches. Normally I have been avoiding "other IP" in my West Haven, but these two have been such a staple in my games for so long it is hard to part with them. 

The Bone Man embodies predatory magic seeking to extract power from place and people alike. He used to be a citizen of West Haven. He had been in charge of the gravesites, and for a while, he ruled as Lord Autumn in the Autumn sector. But his desire for power, both necromantic and political, drove him out of West Haven. Some say he left to find better ways to seize power; others say he was forced out by the Witch Queen at the time. He shows up occasionally, attempting to sow discord, but has not been seen in years now.

East Haven’s Patriarchy reflects systemic, conservative opposition to witches as a social and spiritual force. Thankfully, they do not represent all the people of East Haven, but they are rather vocal. They are followers of Providence Stoughton, one of the founders of the original Haven settlement and village. Stoughton was a devout member of the Lords of Light and the spiritual founder of the Church of Light in Old Haven. The Temple of Light in East Haven was dedicated to his memory. While Stoughton was a moderately conservative priest, he was not a fanatic. The Patriarch of East Haven though feels that since he founded the Haven Settlement all these lands, including West Haven, belong to him and therefore belong to his legacy, which they claim. 

Katrina exists as a morally complex internal threat, an ally whose vision could become tyranny if unchecked. Sadly, if the Patriarchy were ever to become a true threat again, Katrina's position would grow more attractive, especially to younger witches.  One thing I hope to convey through Elowen is that Katrina has some good points. It is through older witches like Larina and Esmé that we see what threat Katrina really brings. 

The greatest long-term threat is The One Who Remains, a force that does not attack directly but erodes reality, memory, and identity over time. It is not always visible. It does not always act. But it is always present. The One Who Remains is also the threat that could cause all the participants above to put aside their differences and fit this greater foe.

West Haven survives not because it is strong, but because it refuses to be defined by outsiders.


Join Adam Dickstein of Barking Alien, and his RPG CAMPAIGN TOUR CHALLENGE 2026!

RPG CAMPAIGN TOUR CHALLENGE!

Monday, December 1, 2025

Monstrous Mondays: Wyrdcat

Carla Bosteder from Pixabay
Carla Bosteder from Pixabay
 I am working on another piece of something that may or may not involve my "The One Who Remains."  Think of this as a warm-up sketch an artist would do before getting into their main composition. 

As it turns out, this also makes a decent OGL-ready version of a Displacer Beast. This is based on a monster we used to use called a "Tessercat." 

Wyrdcat

Dimensional Apex Predator

“It isn’t invisible. It’s just in three places you’re not.”

- Notes from the Archives of Killian Mazior

The Wyrdcat is a predator from beyond the edges of known planes, not born of one world, but between them. It is not native to any reality, and perhaps not even alive by most definitions. When Killian’s Tower began drawing in unstable planar energies, the Wyrdcat slipped through. A wandering apex hunter, now trapped within the folds of fractured dimensions.

Though feline in form, the Wyrdcat is a thing of quantum uncertainty and temporal stutter. It appears as a sleek, panther-like creature with oily black fur, three shadow-laced tails, and eyes that glint in colors no one can name. Its form pulses with fractured reflections. At any given moment, it may exist in multiple nearby positions, flickering like an unsynced illusion.

It hunts with the precision and cruelty of a big cat; stalking, pouncing, toying with prey before the kill. The laws of space and time bend around it. Some say it sees not just where a creature is, but where it was and will be. Those who survive a Wyrdcat encounter speak of claws that cut through armor, wounds that reappear after healing, and psychic echoes that return in dreams.

Behavior

Solitary Apex Predator: The Wyrdcat hunts alone. It marks its territory across multiple overlapping realities. If another apex predator enters its distorted hunting grounds, it becomes immediately aggressive.

Reality Drifter: The Wyrdcat can manipulate its form to align with different versions of reality. This shift can cause localized changes in reality, resulting in distorted probability fields. (This results in the players needing to use different dice to roll for initiative, to hit, and damage. It can also cause the local "rules" to shift between editions of the game.)

Mirror Flicker: It always appears in three semi-distinct forms: one solid, two afterimages or preimages. Only one is real at any time, and it may shift between them without warning.

Dimensional Stalker: It may pursue prey even after they plane shift, teleport, or escape into another zone of the tower. It remembers where they will be.

Wyrdcat (1st Edition)

Frequency: Very Rare
No. Appearing: 1 (always solitary)
Armor Class: 2
Move: 15"
Hit Dice: 7+2
% in Lair: 5%
Treasure Type: Q (×10), X
No. of Attacks: 2 claws / 1 bite
Damage/Attack: 2–8 / 2–8 / 2–12
Special Attacks: Surprise (90%), planar pounce
Special Defenses: Mirror Flicker (see below), +2 or better weapon to hit
Magic Resistance: 25%
Intelligence: Low (animal cunning)
Alignment: Neutral
Size: L (8–10' long)
Psionic Ability: Nil

The Wyrdcat is a sleek, black-furred feline predator from beyond the known planes. Though it resembles a panther or great jungle cat, the Wyrdcat’s form flickers unnaturally between overlapping dimensions, accompanied by afterimages that move out of sync with its body. Its three shadow-tailed limbs seem to lag or stutter through space, and its eyes shimmer with alien colors beyond mortal comprehension.

Wyrdcats are not native to any world. They are planar anomalies. Believed to be either accidents of cross-dimensional entropy or the predatory echoes of something far older and deeper. The creatures now prowl the fringes of unstable magical structures such as witch gates, collapsed covensites, and reality-warped ruins.

Though bestial in nature, Wyrdcats hunt with a cruel cunning. They stalk arcane spellcasters and dimensional travelers, and are particularly drawn to witches, warlocks, and those who have tampered with interplanar forces.

The Wyrdcat attacks via a claw/claw/bite routine common to large cat predators. Each claw can do 2-8 (2d4) hp worth of damage, while its bite can do 2-12 (2d6).

Mirror Flicker (Special Defense)

The Wyrdcat constantly flickers between three visible forms. It functions as if under a permanent mirror image spell with two false images. The true form randomly shifts every round. Attacks against the creature have a 66% chance to target an illusion unless the attacker has true seeing or similar magic.

Planar Pounce (Special Attack)

Once per encounter, the Wyrdcat may teleport up to 30 feet to attack as if using a dimension door. This grants it +2 to hit and imposes a -2 penalty on the target's surprise roll.

Edition Flux (Optional Rule)

Once per turn, the GM may declare that the Wyrdcat is using mechanics from a different edition (i.e., switch initiative methods, AC rules, etc.). Players must quickly adapt.


Wyrdcat (3.5 Edition)
Large Magical Beast

Hit Dice: 8d10+32 (76 hp)
Initiative: +4
Speed: 40 ft. (8 squares), planar pounce 1/day
AC: 18 (–1 size, +4 Dex, +5 natural), touch 13, flat-footed 14
Base Atk/Grapple: +8/+17
Attack: Claw +12 melee (1d8+5)
Full Attack: 2 claws +12 melee (1d8+5), bite +7 melee (2d6+5)
Space/Reach: 10 ft./5 ft. (10 ft. with claws)
Special Attacks: Planar Pounce
Special Qualities: Mirror Flicker, Darkvision 60 ft., low-light vision, DR 5/magic, SR 18
Saves: Fort +10, Ref +10, Will +5
Abilities: Str 21, Dex 19, Con 18, Int 6, Wis 14, Cha 10
Skills: Hide +8, Listen +8, Move Silently +12, Spot +8
Feats: Multiattack, Improved Initiative, Weapon Focus (claw)
Environment: Any extraplanar
Organization: Solitary
Challenge Rating: 6
Treasure: None
Alignment: Neutral
Advancement: 9–12 HD (Large); 13–18 HD (Huge)

The Wyrdcat is a sleek, black-furred feline predator from beyond the known planes. Though it resembles a panther or great jungle cat, the Wyrdcat’s form flickers unnaturally between overlapping dimensions, accompanied by afterimages that move out of sync with its body. Its three shadow-tailed limbs seem to lag or stutter through space, and its eyes shimmer with alien colors beyond mortal comprehension.

Wyrdcats are not native to any world. They are planar anomalies. Believed to be either accidents of cross-dimensional entropy or the predatory echoes of something far older and deeper. The creatures now prowl the fringes of unstable magical structures such as witch gates, collapsed covensites, and reality-warped ruins.

Though bestial in nature, Wyrdcats hunt with a cruel cunning. They stalk arcane spellcasters and dimensional travelers, and are particularly drawn to witches, warlocks, and those who have tampered with interplanar forces.

The Wyrdcat attacks via a claw/claw/bite routine common to large cat predators. Each claw can do 1d8+5 hp worth of damage, while its bite can do 2d6+5.

Mirror Flicker (Su): The Wyrdcat exists partially in multiple dimensions. It is constantly under an effect similar to mirror image, generating 2 illusory copies of itself. These cannot be dispelled normally. True seeing reveals the true form.

Planar Pounce (Su): Once per day as a free action, the Wyrdcat may teleport up to 30 feet before making a full attack. This does not provoke attacks of opportunity.

Edition Flux (Ex): Once per encounter, the Wyrdcat may twist reality, forcing all initiative to be rerolled using d10 (2e style) or d6 (1e style), randomly determined. It may also alter damage reduction, attack styles, or magic resistance at the GM’s discretion.


Wyrdcat (D&D 5e)
Large monstrosity, unaligned

Armor Class 16 (natural armor, flickering defense)
Hit Points 95 (10d10 + 40)
Speed 40 ft.

STR 20 (+5)
DEX 18 (+4)
CON 18 (+4)
INT 6 (–2)
WIS 14 (+2)
CHA 10 (+0)

Saving Throws Dex +7, Wis +5
Skills Perception +5, Stealth +8
Damage Resistances force, necrotic; bludgeoning, piercing, and slashing from nonmagical attacks.
Senses darkvision 60 ft., passive Perception 15

Languages —

Challenge 6 (2,300 XP)
Proficiency Bonus +3

The Wyrdcat is a sleek, black-furred feline predator from beyond the known planes. Though it resembles a panther or great jungle cat, the Wyrdcat’s form flickers unnaturally between overlapping dimensions, accompanied by afterimages that move out of sync with its body. Its three shadow-tailed limbs seem to lag or stutter through space, and its eyes shimmer with alien colors beyond mortal comprehension.

Wyrdcats are not native to any world. They are planar anomalies. Believed to be either accidents of cross-dimensional entropy or the predatory echoes of something far older and deeper. The creatures now prowl the fringes of unstable magical structures such as witch gates, collapsed covensites, and reality-warped ruins.

Though bestial in nature, Wyrdcats hunt with a cruel cunning. They stalk arcane spellcasters and dimensional travelers, and are particularly drawn to witches, warlocks, and those who have tampered with interplanar forces.

Mirror Flicker.

The Wyrdcat projects two illusory versions of itself, similar to the mirror image spell. At the start of each turn, roll 1d6. On a 1–4, the attack targets an illusion, which vanishes; on a 5–6, the attack targets the real creature. If all images are destroyed, they regenerate at the start of the Wyrdcat’s next turn.

Planar Pounce (1/Day).

As a bonus action, the Wyrdcat teleports up to 30 feet to a space it can see and makes a full multiattack.

Reality Flux (Recharge 5–6).

The Wyrdcat distorts the battlefield. Until the end of its next turn:

  • All initiative rerolls use a d10 or d6
  • Saving throws use the 3e categories (Fort/Ref/Will).
  • AC is treated as descending (lower = better) for targeting purposes.

This affects PCs and NPCs alike. Creatures with truesight are unaffected.

Actions 

Multiattack. The wyrdcat makes two attacks with its claws and one attack with its bite.

Claw.

Melee Weapon Attack: +8 to hit, reach 10 ft., one target

Hit: 12 (2d6 + 5) slashing damage.

If the target is a spellcaster concentrating on a spell, it must make a DC 15 Constitution saving throw or lose concentration due to the Wyrdcat’s disruptive phasing claws.

Bite.

Melee Weapon Attack: +8 to hit, reach 5 ft., one target

Hit: 16 (2d10 + 5) piercing damage.

If this attack reduces a creature to 0 hit points, the Wyrdcat may teleport up to 30 feet as a free action at the start of its next turn (Planar Reflex Surge).

Wednesday, November 26, 2025

WitchCraft Wednesday: The Hand Mirror of the Silver Witch

Photo by Esra Korkmaz: https://www.pexels.com/photo/old-fashioned-mirror-20208211/
Photo by Esra Korkmaz
  I have a couple of threads of things I am developing at the moment. One has been my ongoing "Occult D&D" idea, which in itself grew out of my "War of the Witch Queens" campaign. The other is an idea based on my rereading of a lot of things I have written over the decades. Some of which I "re-discovered" recently, something I have been calling "The One Who Remains." 

This is the product of the intersection of many of these ideas and threads.

The Hand Mirror of the Silver Witch

This ancient handmirror is the final relic of the Silver Witch, who gave her life to halt the unraveling caused by The One Who Remains. In her last stand, the Silver Witch allowed herself to be unmade. Her memories, power, and will were drawn into the mirror she carried, preserving a single thread of her identity.

The glass is now cool and pale, like winter water. When the light strikes it just right it glimmers with a faint silver glow, as if the moon reflects upon it even indoors.

Only witches and warlocks may safely handle the mirror. Those who seek knowledge for selfish or destructive ends invite peril.

Description

The Hand Mirror is a finely wrought hand mirror of cold iron and silver alloy. Its back bears the mark of the Triple Moon. The mirror never tarnishes and cannot be cracked by mundane force. Looking upon the glass produces a reflection that appears slightly delayed, as if the viewer’s image moves a moment behind.

When held during a ritual, witches report a soft whisper like wind through winter leaves.

Primary Powers

The mirror grants the following abilities when properly attuned. Attunement requires one hour of meditation, incense, and a whispered invitation to the Silver Witch. These powers can be used by any spellcaster.

Second Sight: Three times per day the bearer may gaze into the mirror to cast detect invisibility, detect charm, or detect spirit (witch version). Each use requires one round of concentration.

Moonlit Guidance: Once per night the mirror casts a soft argent glow. While this glow persists, the bearer gains a +2 bonus on saving throws against magical fear, illusions, and enchantment effects. Duration: 1 turn.

Veil of the Silver Witch: Once per day the bearer may cloak herself in silver mist, as blur cast by a 10th-level magic-user. Duration: 5 rounds.

There is a cumulative 5% chance per non-witch use that the mirror becomes inactive in the hands of the user. Worse, echoes of The One Who Remains begin to seek out those who hold the mirror. (Treat as spectres).  

Greater Powers

The mirror holds deeper abilities tied to the Silver Witch’s sacrifice. These powers can only be used by a witch or warlock.

Memory of the Fallen Star: Once per week the bearer may commune with an echo of the Silver Witch. This functions as a limited form of contact other plane. The entity contacted is not a deity but the preserved remnant of Larina’s future self.

Answers are clear but tinged with sorrow. Each use risks emotional fatigue: after communion the bearer must save vs spells or be drained of 1 hp per level for 24 hours due to mental strain.

The Last Reflection: Twice per week the mirror allows the bearer to read a single moment from her own future. This functions as an augury, with a 75% accuracy rate. The glass reveals images of silver fire and shadow intertwined.

Mirror-Walk: Once per month the bearer may step through a reflective surface and emerge from another mirror within five miles. This requires full concentration and a quiet chant. The bearer becomes insubstantial for one round upon exit.

The Doom of the Silver Witch

The Mirror of the Silver Witch is powerful but dangerous. Within the artifact lies the remaining fragment of the Silver Witch’s mind. That remnant strives to protect others from the fate she endured, yet her presence is fading.

Each time a Greater Power is used, there is a cumulative 5% chance the mirror’s “echo” attempts to guide the bearer toward events tied to The One Who Remains. This influence is subtle. The bearer may feel prophetic dread, be drawn to gates of power, or suffer moonlit dreams.

If the chance ever reaches 25%,  the DM should require a saving throw versus spells whenever the mirror is used. A failed save means the bearer glimpses the Silver Witch’s unmaking and must roll a system shock check or fall unconscious for 1d6 turns.

If the chance reaches 50% the mirror loses one Greater Power of the DM’s choice, symbolizing the last of the Silver Witch’s memories fading away.

Texts, including the near-mythical Adnerg Codices (an artifact in it's own right), speak of even greater powers the Mirror once had. 

Destruction

The Mirror cannot be shattered, melted, or banished by mundane or magical means. It may only be destroyed if:

  • It is placed at the center of a Witch Gate during a total eclipse,
  • Seven witches of different traditions willingly break their coven-bonds for one night,
  • And the bearer renounces her name while holding the mirror.

This ritual unravels the last thread of the Silver Witch. The mirror dissolves into silver dust. All memory of the Silver Witch fades from history unless preserved in text.

Larina Nix, the Silver Witch
Larina Nix, The Silver Witch
Who Was the Silver Witch?

This is not something players would know, and it is certainly not in the histories of the mirror. But the Silver Witch is a future version of my witch, Larina. 

Back in January, I did TardisCaptain's New Year, New Character challenge where I took a lot of Grenda's characters and revised them for Wasted Lands. I mentioned before that in his stack of characters were a bunch of his versions of my characters. 

One of them was Larina

I didn't use her then because I was saving her for something special. But in my writings about The One Who Remains, I figured it out. Those versions of my characters? They are all gone. Unmade. Well, maybe one or two survived, but Larina, that Larina, did not. 

Why would I kill off one of my beloved characters? It was because of love that I did it. Or rather, that Larina's sacrifice. She loved her world enough to warn others via her Mirror. Since here she was an NPC her fate was entirely of my own design. Her world, a reflection of my own game world, was unraveled by The One Who Remains, or at least a part of him. Funny, I can hear Grenda in my head now saying, "You destroyed my version of your world, all because I am dead? What a dick!" 

That is the REAL power of the Mirror. Not the magics in it, those are just side effects. The real power is that it will fall into the hands of those who could do something about The One Who Remains and maybe, just maybe, prevent it from happening to their own world.

Who, or What, it The One Who Remains? Well. That is going to be a much longer post.

Monday, June 9, 2025

Monstrous Mondays: The Serpent Men of Lemuria

 Today marks the 95 anniversary of the birth of American author Lin Carter.  I didn't plan it this way, but I have been going back and rereading some of Carter's work, especially his entries in Gygax's Appendix N. So today I want to revisit a favorite bad guy of mine, the Ophidians or Snake Men/Serpent Men, and recast them as "The Serpent Men of Lemuria." 

Snake Man

I am not trying to cling to one particular idea here. This is a pastiche of many sources. Lin Carter, Robert E. Howard, Lovecraft, Clark Ashton Smith, and others. 

This recasting is not designed to be incompatible with my previous post on Ophidians, but rather an enhancement to it. 

Serpent Men of Lemuria (Ophidians)

Frequency: Rare
No. Appearing: 2–20 (nobles 1–4; lesser 2–100; emissaries 1–10; abominations 1–8)
Armor Class: Varies (see below)
Move: 12" (Swim 12")
Hit Dice: Varies (see below)
% in Lair: 60%
Treasure Type: Varies (see below)
No. of Attacks: Varies
Damage/Attack: Varies
Special Attacks: Poison, charm, constriction, magic
Special Defenses: See below
Magic Resistance: Standard
Intelligence: High to Genius
Alignment: Lawful Evil
Size: M to L (5' to 15' long)
Psionic Ability: Nil
Attack/Defense Modes: Nil 

The Serpent Men of Lemuria are the degenerate remnants of an ancient pre-human empire that once ruled the world from their black ziggurats of Lemuria. Worshippers of forgotten serpent gods, they are a deeply hierarchical species whose society is divided into castes: Nobles, Emissaries, Lessers, Abominations, and the rare Progenitors.

The Serpent Men dwell in lost cities, endless deserts, and jungle-cloaked ruins where the bones of their former empire still stand. Their society is steeped in sorcery, cruelty, and ancient blood magic.

Lesser Serpent Men (Rank & File)

Armor Class: 4
Hit Dice: 3+1
No. of Attacks: 2 (weapons) or 1 (bite)
Damage/Attack: Weapon (usually scimitars 1d8) or bite 1d6 + poison
Special Attacks: Poison (save vs poison or die in 1d4+2 rounds)
Special Defenses: Immune to snake venom
Treasure Type: Q×10 (minor trophies, jewelry)

Description: The Lesser caste are the numerous warrior-slaves of the Serpent Men, with humanoid torsos and snake-like lower bodies. They wield cruel curved blades and favor ambush tactics. Though not highly intelligent individually, they are cunning pack hunters.

Noble Serpent Men (Ruling Caste)

Armor Class: 2
Hit Dice: 9+3
No. of Attacks: 1 (weapon or bite)
Damage/Attack: Weapon (1d8) or bite 1d6 + poison
Special Attacks: Poison (save vs poison or die in 1d4+2 rounds); Command lesser castes
Special Defenses: Immune to snake venom; immune to petrification (basilisks, medusae)
Treasure Type: H, S (temple hoards)

Description: The Nobles rule through bloodline purity, cruelty, and mastery of ancient secrets. With humanoid heads covered in fine scales, they resemble blasphemous parodies of men. Their venom is deadlier than the Lesser caste, and their minds sharp with sorcerous knowledge of the old gods.

Emissary Serpent Men (Sorcerer-Priests)
Armor Class: 5
Hit Dice: 6+2
No. of Attacks: 1 weapon or spell
Damage/Attack: Weapon (usually dagger 1d4+1) or by spell
Special Attacks: Charm (victims save at −1); spells as 5th-level Illusionist
Special Defenses: Immune to snake venom; partially resistant to charm (save at +1 vs charm attempts)
Treasure Type: O, R (spell components, magical items, rare scrolls)

Description: Emissaries are the sorcerer-priests of the Ophidians, acting as the voice of the nobles to the outside world. Though appearing nearly human, they bear forked tongues, scaled skin, and slitted eyes. Their spells manipulate the minds of humans, making them ideal infiltrators and agents.

Abomination Serpent Men (Spawn of Forbidden Unions)

Armor Class: 3
Hit Dice: 10+2
No. of Attacks: 2 slams and bite
Damage/Attack: 1d6+3 / 1d6+3 (slams), bite 1d6+3 + poison
Special Attacks: Constriction (if both slam attacks hit same target); poison bite (save vs poison or die in 1d4+1 rounds)
Special Defenses: Immune to snake venom; berserk rage grants +2 to hit when wounded
Treasure Type: None

Description: The Abominations are cursed progeny — bloated masses of serpentine horror, many-limbed or many-headed, each uniquely malformed. Used as shock troops, they know only hatred for all life. The nobles use them as living engines of slaughter.

Progenitor Serpent Men (Ancient Mage-Priests)

Armor Class: 6
Hit Dice: 9
No. of Attacks: 1 weapon or spell
Damage/Attack: By weapon or spell
Special Attacks: Cast as 5th-level Magic-User and 4th-level Cleric
Special Defenses: Immune to snake venom; difficult to detect (treat as continuous nondetection spell)
Treasure Type: Q, S, U (ancient relics, rare spellbooks, forbidden lore)

Description: The Progenitors are the oldest of the Serpent Men, their bodies concealed by illusory human skins. They are few, paranoid, and driven by a desire for immortality. Most nobles seek to destroy them out of fear.

Ecology and Religion

The Serpent Men worship ancient pre-human serpent deities, long forgotten by man. Whether these are true gods or eldritch cosmic entities is unknown. In their black ziggurats, sacrifices are made to these dark powers, feeding the Ophidian sorceries that sustain their dwindling bloodlines.

The Cult of The One Who Remains

In the lost jungles and steaming lowlands of ancient Lemuria, where black ziggurats rise like broken teeth through the mists, the Ophidian Serpent Men whisper prayers to a god few mortals dare name. The humans who know of it call it The One Who Remains; the Serpent Men call it Ssath Ur-Raa, He Who Waits Beyond All Coils.

Ouroboros

To the Serpent Men, all things, kingdoms, races, even the gods themselves, are as molted skins, discarded and forgotten. After all, they watched the Old Ones rise into power and then fall into their deep cosmic slumbers. Only the great cosmic serpent at the center of all existence endures. They believe that when the final sun gutters out and the last star grows cold, The One Who Remains will still exist, coiled at the center of the void, the last and eternal devourer. It is not death, but endless, unbroken continuation. Not life, but consumption without end.

Within their ancient temples, deep beneath the crumbling ziggurats of Lemuria, the Serpent Men enact terrible rites in its honor. Victims are dragged screaming into stone chambers and placed upon altars of obsidian and jade. There, their lifeblood is spilled, seeping into channels cut into the floor, flowing in great spirals that mimic the infinite coils of their god. Blood is both offering and currency, traded for visions, power, and the brief illusion of immortality.

The priesthood of The One Who Remains is layered like the coils of their god. At its center sits the High Oracle of the Last Coil, always one of the ancient Progenitors, older than memory and rumored to have gazed directly into the eyes of the Sleeper Beneath the Last Coil. Around the Oracle gather the Lords of the Black Coil, drawn from the most ancient noble bloodlines. It is they who oversee the Abomination-Births, deliberately breeding the most monstrous of their kind as offerings and as weapons in their ceaseless wars. Beneath them are the Coilspeakers, the Emissaries who master the ancient arts of dream-sorcery and illusion. With whispered words and flickering gestures, they cloud the minds of men and bend them to the will of their Ophidian masters.

Even among the Lesser caste, faith in The One Who Remains is absolute, though their understanding is crude. They serve as the laborers, the warriors, and the butchers of the faith. For every sacrifice, for every abomination birthed, for every rival enslaved or destroyed, the Serpent Men believe themselves one coil closer to their god’s embrace.

Yet it is not merely blood and flesh they offer. The Coilspeakers enter trances where they seek visions from the outer reaches of the world, glimpsing patterns spiraling into infinite madness. Those few who return speak of collapsing worlds, of unraveling realities, and of other realms where The One Who Remains reaches through fractured dimensions to consume entire existences. Whether these are prophetic glimpses or delusions born of their own degeneracy, none can say.

To the Ophidians, all is a spiral, the twisting of bloodlines, the coiling of bodies in ritual embrace, the spiraling glyphs carved into the temple stones. And at the center of every spiral is The One Who Remains.

Even now, as the last of their ancient cities crumble, and humanity rises beyond the jungles they once ruled, the Ophidians believe that all victories of man are but passing skins. In the end, when all is uncoiled and the world breathes its final breath, only their god shall remain.

--

I have been hanging on to The One Who Remains for many years now. Trying to find good ways to sneak it into various writings. He made his first appearance in my Buffy RPG adventure "The Dark Druid" and he is the "something else" I mentioned in Fear Dorich's stats. 

Who, or what, is The One Who Remains? That is a much more complicated question and deserves a careful answer. In the future.