Seven Leagues, A Fantasy RPG of Faerie

Maurice Roth (order #1738163)

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Acknowledgments Many thanks to Thomas Laborey and the team at Imaginez.net, including Antoine Drouart and Thomas Lampert, authors of the French RPG Contes de Fées. While CdF is very different than Seven Leagues, it was nevertheless a significant inspiration for this game. In addition, Mr. Laborey helped considerably during Seven Leagues’ development with his generous advice and thoughtful comments. I also owe at least a nod if not a deep bow to the other game sources, direct and indirect: to Philippe Tromeur for the inspiring Wuthering Heights RPG, Marc Miller for Traveller (first edition) and above all to Denis Gerfaud for Rêve de Dragon (Rêve: the Dream Ouroboros in English). These games may bear little overt resemblance to Seven Leagues, but they were nevertheless an important influence.

and translated by Thomas Laborey. Kizz belongs to Kelly Henley; Raven is by Thomas Laborey; Légerdoigt inspired by a character by David Elliott and Art Feldman. All illustrations are in the public domain, except a few which are ©2005 Hieronymous. Cover image is taken from “The Fairy’s Funeral” by John Anster Christian Fitzgerald. Should you find any illustrations herein that you believe to be copyrighted, contact the publisher at once. Seven Leagues is typeset in 11 point Cochin; titles are in Glasgow. Made with Macintosh. Dedicated to O.S., C.N., and E.M., who someday may read it.

Thanks also to the playtesters and advisors: Jeb Boyt, Tom Gerrow, David Givens, Mike Greene, Kelly Henley, Darin Henley, Whit Madere and Jade Tinnerman as well as suggestions from the Forge: Ron Edwards, Ironick, Kenji, Bill Masek, Selene Tan and other contributors to www.indie-rpgs.com. Any defects in the game are doubtless due to my not listening to them closely enough. Certain brief passages were contributed by Thomas Laborey and David Givens. “You Only Live (Happily Ever After) Twice” is by Antoine Drouart


Victor Vasnetsov

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Contents Acknowledgments ...................................................... i Contents ......................................................................ii What is a Roleplaying Game? .................................. 1 Introduction ............................................................... 4 Part the First: Once Upon a Time... ............................. 6 Character Creation ................................................ 7 Roll Thirteen ........................................................ 12 Conflict ................................................................. 16 Adjudicating Charms & Taboos ......................... 23 Disasters .............................................................. 26 Influencing the Story ........................................... 29 Character Growth ............................................... 31 Seven Protagonists ............................................... 36 Part the Second: The Hut on Chicken Legs ................ 43 Nature .................................................................. 44 Provinces .............................................................. 46 Domains ............................................................... 74 Mortals ................................................................. 76 Troupes.................................................................. 79 Antagonists .......................................................... 82 Part the Third: Tales ................................................ 91 The Emperor’s Painting ...................................... 92 You Only Live (Happily Ever After) Twice ........ 100 The Ass’ Skin.......................................................108

Edmund Dulac

Appendix: Character Sheets...................................... 121


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What!is!a!Roleplaying!Game? Seven Leagues is a roleplaying game — RPG for short. In simplest terms, a roleplaying game is one where the players collectively tell a story by assuming the roles of the characters of that story. But what is a game? The facile definition is that a game is an activity for fun that is to be won. This encapsulates the inherent contradiction of most games: they are purportedly for fun, yet carry the seriousness and heaviness of the desire to win. But in fact the objective of winning is not inherent to the notion of a game. The fundamental characteristic of a game is that it to be played. (In that regard I highly recommend James Carse’s elegant little tome, Finite and Infinite Games). A true roleplaying game takes as its fundamental premise this characteristic. In other words, in an RPG there are no “winners” or “losers”. When we were children, we played “let’s pretend”. That is the experience at the heart of a roleplaying game. In Seven Leagues, we play “let’s pretend we are archetypical magical beings in an allegorical world”. The motivation for playing such a game is to create a story together. A novelist or playwright writes in solitude; RPGs are by definition social. The result is both socially satisfying and also potentially surprising. The unexpected twist in the plot, the unforeseen character reactions, lend both a verisimilitude and degree of pleasure to a roleplaying game not always available from other activities.


On the other hand, a satisfying roleplaying game is as far from the child’s “let’s pretend” as, say, aviation is from paper airplanes. Potentially an RPG involves an adult level of intellectual, moral, philosophical, and artistic creation and challenge.

E. A. Abbey

Yet there remain commonalities between “let’s pretend” and RPGs. Both use language and improvisation as their currency. “I’m the Indian and you’re the cowboy” is at its root the same as “I am a dreaming painter creating an idealized world and you are an imperial art collector trapped in a literal paradigm, but on whom I rely for patronage” — there’s just a greater level of complexity and ambiguity in the latter.

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More importantly, this open-endedness leads to the inevitable conclusion that in a roleplaying game there are no winners or losers, only the furtherance of the story. The very fact that the in-game interactions have improvised dialogue as their inherent and necessary structure demands that a roleplaying game be an extension of a social contract. This social dimension is often overlooked. There is even a legerdemain here: we often fixate on the game mechanics of an RPG (the internal rules by which fictional events are simulated and the outcomes of actions are resolved) while ignoring the meta-game rules that are ultimately more important: the social interaction between players. Seven Leagues attempts to avoid tiptoeing around the elephant in the room and addressing this discrepancy between the perceived and real mechanics of game play by making collaborative narration central to its action system. Put more simply: in any RPG, words are the real but implicit driver; in Seven Leagues, they are explicitly so. My friend Thomas Laborey (may his Kir never be exhausted!) reminds me that an inherent quality of roleplaying games is that they can be used to tell a never ending tale. One can, of course, play a single session of a roleplaying game and walk away, but the nature of a collaborative story without winners or losers is that one can pick up the thread again tomorrow (or next week, or month). The experience of the game, rather than its won or lost outcome, is the source of its pleasure and interest. It is therefore


inherently open-ended consuming!).

(and

potentially

time-

These days, there is such a vast diversity of roleplaying games (and games that call themselves RPGs but in fact are not) that it’s probably worth defining what a roleplaying game is not. It is not something played on a computer (although you may be reading this book from your computer screen). It is also not necessarily Dungeons and Dragons™, although D&D is probably the best-known RPG around. One also needn’t (and probably shouldn’t) dress up for an RPG, any more than one dresses up for a game of chess. One does not crawl through steam tunnels or in a forest — that’s a LARP (live action roleplaying game) — another animal entirely, albeit of a related species. There are other, less important details besides. In most RPGs, all but one player take on the role of a single character each; these are thus called the player characters, or PCs. In Seven Leagues, player characters are called Protagonists. Seven Leagues also follows many roleplaying games in that one player assumes the role of all the other characters in this collaborative, fictional world. This player is called the game master generically, the Narrator in this game. (There are even some RPGs where the duties of the game master are collectively assumed or even eliminated altogether).

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again, some games use dice in a variety of different ways (Seven Leagues uses a twelve-sided die exclusively, but other games use a variety of dice), or use playing cards, or eliminate the random element altogether and substitute a bidding system. Finally, the reader might want to browse the Wikipedia definition of “role-playing game”: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Role_playing_game and of course Imaginez.net’s article (in French): http://imaginez.net.free.fr/jeu/jdr/definition/ definition.htm John Anster Christian Fitzgerald

When outcomes need to be determined, players often roll dice according to prescribed rules to determine the success or failure of a proposed action. Here


and in shorter form (also in the tongue of Molière): http://www.playtribe.org/home.php?rub= sdossier&theme=jdr

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Introduction The Mabinogion and the Mahabharata. The King of Elfland’s Daughter. The Adventures of Baron Munchausen. Histoires ou Contes du Temps Passé. The Tale of a Thousand Nights and One Night. The Brothers Grimm. Baba Yaga. Neil Gaiman’s Sandman. These are the kinds of stories that the Seven Leagues fantasy roleplaying game (RPG) seeks to tell. In Seven Leagues, Players assume the role of a fairy-tale character. Here the definition of fairy-tale is rather broad, and not limited to the classic stories of Perrault or Fontaine, although these authors must take their place as the core of Seven Leagues’ inspiration. Nevertheless, the game is just as well suited to tell modern tales of the magical. And as fairy-tale characters, Player characters enjoy powers and limitations well beyond those of the Mortals telling their stories. As compact as these rules are, they cannot delve into too much detail, nor given the genre should they. Those coming to Seven Leagues from other games might look herein for rules for imposing game balance, or detailed progression tables, or ‘crunchy’ game mechanics. Those are all very fine things, but they won’t be found here. Rather, Seven Leagues is designed to use collaborative storytelling and narration as the basis for its mechanics as much as possible. The point here is to come as close as


possible to the paradoxical imaginings of tellers of fairy tales — be they modern or classic.

Edmund Dulac

Many roleplaying game rules are rooted in mathematics and simple probability. Those elements

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are certainly here, albeit in a simple form, but many of this game’s rules are based in language and grammar. The Oxford English Dictionary has over 290,000 entries and well over half a million word forms. If you are reading this you probably have a vocabulary of some 20,000 words*. Language, and the grammatical engine that makes it run, therefore seems like a fine underlying mechanic for a game that attempts to tell collective stories. Seven Leagues is divided into three main sections. Once Upon a Time... outlines the mechanics of character creation and game play, and includes seven sample characters for Players and Narrators alike to use as templates or inspiration. The Hut on Chicken Legs discusses the Faerie world and the kinds of adventures to be found there, and includes several sample Antagonists. Finally, Three Tales give the beginning Narrator a place to start — don’t read them if you plan on being a Player.

Nomenclature!&!Numerology The word fairy (as in “fairy-tale” or “fairy-tale character”) is meant in the general sense of “a mythical being of folklore and romance”; Faerie, on the other hand, refers to the marvelous lands inhabited by the magical characters of Seven Leagues — not necessarily the author’s particular game world. When a new term with a specific game-related meaning is introduced, it will be bold-faced and italicized, and will typically be followed by a short description. Thereafter, if that term is meant to be understood in its game definition, it will be capitalized. Otherwise, if lowercase, the term’s mundane sense is meant. In Seven Leagues, the prime numbers three, seven and thirteen recur throughout the rules; Narrators should sprinkle them liberally in their own Tales.

*According to David Wilton, owner of the language site, www.wordorigins.org


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Part!the!First

Once!Upon!a!Time... All Seven Leagues characters are unique creatures, the product of the imaginative power of Faerie. This is true whether they are Protagonists, the Player characters, or Antagonists, nonPlayer characters whose roles are assumed by the Narrator, the game referee. There are no stock species of creatures or “monsters” or “standard races” for Players to play. That’s not to say that there might not be trolls, for example, who all more or less conform to a common ideal of trolldom. But that model will vary from game to game or campaign to campaign. The personages populating Faerie also differ from many other roleplaying game characters in that they are for the most part immortal. That is not to say that they cannot be hurt, or that they are immutable. In fact Seven Leagues characters constantly gain and lose Virtue points, Luck, Curses, Charms and Taboos. Made from the very stuff of imagination, however, they cannot be snuffed out entirely, although they may eventually change to the point of no longer being recognizable. Even characters who seemingly “die” may eventually resurface in a later Tale, albeit in a diminished or altered form.


Arthur Rackham

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Character!Creation Seven Leagues characters are and should be fluid, and are therefore simply described by a combination of text descriptions and a very few numeric values. Players should try to come up with characters that are true to the genre, whether classic or modern tales.

Hand represents all the character’s physical attributes: strength, quickness, stamina, and resistance to poisoned apples for example — although at times the Narrator may have the Player use Heart rather than Hand to resist poison or disease.

There are seven components to each character: Aspect, Virtues, Charms and Taboos, Fortune, Legend, and Name; each is defined and explained below.

Aspect Each character’s Aspect captures the character’s essence. This is a three-word descriptor containing at least one noun, of which the first word is almost always an article OR the second is a preposition. The Aspect sums up the character in a line, e.g.: An ogre magician, A Russian witch, or God of Dreams. It defines the character, and tells us who she is — which is not always the same thing as what she is.

Virtues There are three Virtues in Seven Leagues: Head, Heart, and Hand. Head corresponds to all the mental faculties of the character: observation, reason, wit, memory and intellect. Heart is the character’s courage, fortitude, wisdom, empathy and charisma.


Aubrey Beardsley

Protagonists’ initial Virtues range from 1 to 7, and at creation the sum of all three (the character’s Renown) equals 13. Only Antagonists may have a score of 0 in a Virtue. Players are free to distribute their 13 Virtue points between Head, Heart and

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Hand. The Narrator should review the Player character’s Virtues and make sure they are consistent with the character’s Aspect. As a guide, Virtues may loosely be scaled as follows: Nonexistent. Being incorporeal, a ghost would have a Hand of 0. 1 Minimum. An animals’ Head might be 1. 2 Low. A careless giant might have a Heart of 2. 3 Modest. Most mundane characters populating the background would have a 2 or 3 in all their Virtues. 4 High. A unicorn, a wise and magical beast, might have a Head of 4. 5 Gifted. Little Tom Thumb, with his courage and pluck, has a Heart of 5. 6 Extraordinary. The Marquis of Carabas, an ogre, has a 6 in Hand. 7+ Supernatural. Merlin’s Head score would be 7 (or higher). 0

What good are they? In addition to describing facets of a character as a scalar value, Virtues function to help resolve actions whose outcome is uncertain. A die roll required to determine whether a character managed to jump over a magic hedge, for example, would be resolved using Virtues. In Seven Leagues, nearly all such rolls are made according to the principle of Roll 13 (see below).


Charms

After deciding on an Aspect and scoring Virtues, the character’s creator should list the character’s Charms and Taboos. A Charm is a special or magical ability which is implied by the character’s Aspect. Charms are given one-verb descriptions, and are not defined by numerical values. Initially, Protagonists begin with a number of Charms equal to their lowest Virtue — hence at most four and at least one. Once the Player has invented his Charms, the Narrator should review them and may ask the Player to adjust them or (rarely) veto them altogether. On the other hand, the Narrator may allow bonus minor or incidental Charms if these are consistent with the character’s Aspect. And as characters live through Tales, they may gain new or expanded Charms. Beginning Protagonists needn’t be fully realized and should have room to grow. To a certain degree, the Narrator need not worry too much about Charms that are unbalanced or excessive. For one thing, the mechanics of Conflict in Seven Leagues places more emphasis on the narration of a Charm than how “powerful” it is. Naturally, Charms like Omnipotent (to cite one extreme example) should be disallowed. But Players will quickly find that a Charm that is interesting and especially consistent with their character concept will be to their advantage, far more so than a Charm that is “powerful”, as it will allow them to gain more Narrative Bonuses (see below).

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Likewise, Charms which are too broad lose their potency, because paradoxically they do not allow a Player to fully exercise her creativity. Magic especially should be carefully considered. It is perfectly acceptable for a character to have a single Charm which allows for a range of magical effects. In other words, a character need not devote a separate Charm for every “spell” he can cast. However, a single blanket Charm like Casts spells is too broad. Rather, the Charm should eloquently indicate the kinds of magic or “spells” which it represents. For example, in the Seven Protagonists section below, The Sand Merchant Casts illusions with magic sand; likewise, Creakbone Animates forest plants to carry out his will.

Taboos Taboos are the opposite of Charms: they are extraordinary limitations or supernatural hindrances, whether physical or psychological. Initially, characters may begin with no Taboos. However, a Player may voluntarily elect to invent a Taboo for her character. For every two initial Taboos, the character may gain one Charm above and beyond the above limit for beginning Protagonists. Beginning characters can only have as many Taboos as they have initial Charms (i.e., at most one per lowest Virtue score). A starting Protagonist may therefore have at very most six Charms: four from the highest possible lowest Virtue score, and two more from taking on four Taboos.


Ivan Bilibin

Many example Charms and Taboos can be found among the sample Protagonists and Antagonists. A discussion of adjudicating Charms and Taboos follows the section on action and Conflict resolution (Roll Thirteen).

Fortune A character’s Fortune is expressed by two polar facets: Luck and Curses. Each can potentially modify a character’s Roll 13, although their application varies slightly. Initially, Protagonists will have no Luck. As they proceed in their Tales, however, they may find or be given items, usually small amulets (which can in fact

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have virtually any physical appearance, from a rabbit’s foot to a glimmering magical talisman), bringing them Luck. Characters may also be granted Luck as result of fulfilling a certain task set forth by the Narrator. It can even be gained as a consequence of aiding another being, whether bestowed intentionally or not. Luck grants a fixed Roll 13 bonus of up to +3 under specific circumstances, for example, “+1 in forests”, or “+2 to Courage Rolls”. Luck doesn’t last forever; generally only for a single Tale, at the end of which it disappears or the amulet becomes inert. To be fair, Luck gained at the end of a Tale will last through the end of the following one. At the Narrator’s discretion, Luck may last longer than one Tale (although this is not recommended, as the Luck then begins to function more like a Charm), possibly “fading” by one +1 per Tale. If the Luck is a bestowed by another being, even if not deliberately, then betraying the granting being will cause the loss of the Luck in question (or worse, such as being Cursed). Protagonists and Antagonists can also have Curses, which are like bad or “negative” Luck. Curses are up to -3 penalties to Roll 13 under specific circumstances. They are accrued either as the result of Defeats, or assigned by the Narrator whenever a character knowingly or not breaks certain Taboos. For example, the Vampire in The Hut on Chicken Legs


is physically prevented by its Taboo from entering an abode uninvited — this Taboo can’t normally be broken. But if the Vampire were to pass up a chance to drink blood in defiance of its Taboo, Craves human blood, or were tricked into looking into a mirror (against “Hates mirrors, crosses, garlic, wild roses”) for example, the Narrator would assign it a Curse, say “-2 to all rolls involving Hypnotism”. Unlike Luck, Curses must be broken and do not go away on their own — usually by undertaking a relevant quest of the Narrator’s devising. This quest need not be arduous or an entire Tale unto itself, but could consist of the satisfaction of certain conditions or the completion of a task. For example, the Vampire cursed for inadvertently looking into a mirror might rid itself of the consequent curse by sleeping in its own grave for a week. Curses may also be attached to items, in which case try as he might the cursed character cannot get rid of the thing, except by the proscribed method. More commonly, though, they are attached to the character directly. Curses are typically the result of Defeats or are scripted into the Narrator’s Tale as consequences for certain actions.

Legend At creation, each character is fleshed out with a Legend, a short passage establishing the character more fully. The Legend helps color the character’s

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Virtues in addition to detailing her Aspect. For example, a given Hand score may be applicable to both a musician’s manual dexterity and a troll’s strength. They might both have the same high Hand scores, but what specific actions those scores would be applicable to would be determined by the character’s Legend. As the character grows, the Player will have opportunities to expand the Protagonist’s Legend. Furthermore, the player should underline Keywords in the Legend. A Keyword is a sort of narrative hook which allows the Player to affect the outcome of a Tale somewhat, and is generally a single word or very short phrase. Initially, the Player should underline as many Keywords as her lowest Virtue.

What!Should!I!Play? New Players coming to Seven Leagues might want to skip ahead to the seven sample Protagonists at the end of Once Upon A Time... to see the kinds of characters one can play. Of course, the Narrator will set the tone of the Tales to be told. Will they be classic Tales of ogres, cruel stepparents, and talking animals, like one would find in the pages of Perrault? Or dark modern urban fables of a blurry twilit world spanning the Mortal realm and Faerie? Or heroic stories set in the mythic past of the cradle of civilization, when gods and heroes fought monsters to bring order to a frightening world?

Name As with a child, the character is named after its creation. All characters also have a secret Inner Name, never spoken nor written down (in fact probably the Player and perhaps even the Narrator are ignorant of exactly what that Inner Name is). Should anyone ever learn a character’s Inner Name (as specifically scripted in the course of a Tale), the Named can be given a Curse and even controlled by the Naming character.


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Roll!Thirteen There are several types of actions in Seven Leagues. Most actions require no die rolls at all: they are either narrated (whether by the Narrator or a Protagonist), or negotiated (Narrator and Protagonist agree upon the outcome of a proposed series of events). The linguistic and collaborative nature of narration and negotiation obviate the need for game rules by their very nature — think of them as pure collective storytelling.

Some actions, however, have inherently uncertain outcomes. Sometimes the Narrator and Protagonist cannot agree on the outcome of a proposed action. At other times, the Narrator (or even Protagonist) wants to inject a sense of drama and suspense by making the outcome of an action unpredictable. In these cases, the Players resolve actions by Rolling 13. Roll 13 means that the Player must roll 13 or higher on a d12 (a twelve-sided die, the only die you use in Seven Leagues). But that’s impossible! Well, not really. Whenever she Rolls 13, the Player adds the appropriate Virtue score to her die roll, and adds and subtracts any bonuses or penalties that might apply: Circumstantial Modifiers, Narrative Modifiers, or in some cases an opponent’s Virtue modifier applied as a penalty.

Victor Vasnetsov


There are two general kinds of rolls in Seven Leagues: Unopposed and Opposed. Unopposed rolls are those in which a character is acting or reacting alone; for example, trying to leap across a stream. If the action is so simple or easy as to be almost sure to succeed, no roll is generally necessary. But even a trivial task can become difficult if there are adverse circumstances. For example, climbing down a ladder from a hay loft may be automatic in most situations, but if the character is carrying a heavy burden and

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the ladder rungs are covered in ice, an Unopposed roll would be probably be required, unless the character’s Aspect would lend itself particularly to the activity at hand. As with all actions requiring rolls, the Player must roll a modified 13 on a d12, adjusted for the appropriate Virtue, and any Circumstantial Modifiers the Narrator feels are appropriate. Opposed rolls are handled in much the same way. In cases where a character is attempting to prevent another from accomplishing a given action, the character attempting the action must take as a negative modifier the opposing character’s appropriate Virtue, in addition to any Narratorimposed penalties or bonuses. In some cases opposed rolls should be handled using the Conflict system below, even for situations outside of literal combat.

Circumstantial!Modifiers The Narrator should keep in mind that a modest Virtue (3) should succeed in an average task requiring a roll about half the time. Let’s work backwards from a successful roll (i.e., 13) and see what modifier would be required to allow a Virtue of 3 to succeed half the time. Since an average roll on a d12 is about 7 (6.5 actually), a good base modifier for an average task is +3 or +4 to insure those kinds of odds:


Virtue 3 Modifier + 3 (“Average”) Average roll + 7 = 13 (success) On the other hand, consider that a character with a supernatural Virtue (7) would need to roll a 12 in order to make a roll at -6 (12 + 7 - 6 = 13). Hence a good guideline for assigning modifiers based on circumstances is: Modifier

+ 4 or more +3 +2 +1 0 -1 -2 -3 -4 -5 -6 or lower

Description

Easy Average Not too hard Hard Pretty hard Difficult Pretty difficult Problematic Very difficult Highly improbable Nearly impossible

Often actions in the context of a Tale will by default be “Pretty Hard”, as Tales are by their very nature dramatic and ofttimes arduous.

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Narrative!Modifiers It is always possible for a character to earn a bonus in Rolling 13 based on the Player’s narration of the character’s actions. The Narrator should give the Player a bonus of up to +3 if the action is cleverly, evocatively, or poetically described. In some cases, the Narrator might even impose a penalty for a particularly insipid or unimaginative action. The mechanics of Conflict, in particular, make it difficult for one combatant or another to win without the use of such bonuses. The Narrator should not be stingy with Narrative Bonuses, as the system deliberately relies on their liberal use. Use the following table as a guide when assigning Narrative Bonuses; when in doubt, err on the high side: Bonus

Narration!is...

-1 to -3 0 +1 +2

Foolish, insipid, or out of character Average Well delivered or embellished Exceptional use of a character trait or exploitation of an opponent’s weakness The Narrator is completely caught off guard by the originality of the action, and the narration perfectly uses the character’s traits, possibly even turning a Taboo to advantage.

+3


Throughout a game session or Tale, each Player (or, alternately, the Narrator) should record the cumulative total value of Narrative Bonuses (or penalties) awarded by the Narrator. This will play an important role in determining character’s growth; see the section of that name.

Natural!1,!Natural!12 In any cases, rolling a 1 on a Roll 13 indicates an automatic failure, possibly with calamitous consequences at the Narrator’s discretion. A 12 is always a success, possibly with a windfall, again at the Narrator’s option.

Which!Virtue? Often it’s obvious which Virtue to use. If performing a physical action, use Hand, for example. In some cases, however, a roll may be made with either of two Virtues. For example, many Seven Leagues characters have magical abilities, such as the ability to cast spells. Arguably, either Head or Heart could be used to Roll 13 when casting a spell. In those cases, the Player may choose which Virtue to use, depending on the nature of the magic. The Virtue should be used consistently for that character and that magical effect. Furthermore, even seemingly “wrong” Virtue choices may be the right one after all. Imagine a character whose Aspect is A brilliant swordsman; such a

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character might have an extraordinary score in Head (say, 6) but only a slightly above-average Hand (on the order of 4). The character could reasonably justify making all his sword combat rolls using the Head Virtue instead of Hand, even though one might expect all combat to be made using Hand rolls. If fighting bare-handed (his sword was stolen or lost), then he would use Hand for combat. If a Player


proposes a Virtue which is questionable, the other Players vote on whether the narration of the Virtue is valid, with the Narrator casting the deciding vote in case of a tie. Good character design (a coherent Aspect and Legend) will play to the character’s strengths, so that in most cases the best Virtue for Conflict.

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Conflict Struggle and strife are the stuff of fairy tales. Seven Leagues uses Roll 13 as the basis of its Conflict system, but with some embellishments. In this section the terminology will be that of direct combat, but in fact the following system can be used for other forms of Conflict, when a more detailed narration is desired than is afforded by a simple opposed Roll 13.

Conflict often takes the form of actual combat. The goal of combat in Seven Leagues is not to gain “experience” or “loot”; indeed, the Defeated has generally more to lose in combat than the victor has to gain. The purpose of Conflict is to further the story, add drama, or create narrative tension. As the Narrator designs her Tales, she should use it accordingly. Conflict is not broken down into a long series of detailed blow-by-blows, or rounds. Instead, the contest as a whole is expressed as a natural progression with an Overture, Crescendo, and Finale. A Conflict can be narrated to take place over the span of a few moments or even several days (as in Jen Yu’s pursuit of Lo in Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon); regardless the Conflict is resolved similarly. Conflict is often used to represent combat, but this system can be used to narrate any Conflict between two or more opponents, from a seduction to a game of chess. It is essential that Conflict not merely be a series of die rolls, but an opportunity to further the story. This is intrinsic to the Conflict system in Seven Leagues: Players and Narrator must describe their characters’ actions in detail.

N.C. Wyeth


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Overture The Overture sets the stage for the Conflict and establishes its opening movements. It has three crucial components: a Courage Roll, establishment of Victory Conditions and defining Circumstantial Modifiers, if any. The Courage Roll establishes both the state of each participant’s pluck as well as determining who begins the narration of the Conflict. All participants roll a die and add their Heart score; the character making the highest adjusted roll begins the narration of the Conflict in the Crescendo. Reroll in case of ties. If the winning character rolls a natural 12 for the Courage Roll, he gets a +1 bonus in the Finale. Next, each Player declares Victory Conditions for her character. The Narrator should note whether the characters’ stated Victory Conditions are consistent with their respective Aspects and Legends; those that aren’t simply won’t come to pass even if the character “wins” the Conflict, or may turn out very differently than the Player intended. Note that a Victory Condition might consist of an attempt to avoid an attack or run away altogether, Moreover, an attack might not seek to do physical harm but instead might consist of merely capturing or impeding an opponent. Finally, the Narrator declares any modifiers due to circumstances, applied either globally to all participants or to specific ones.


Let’s use an example to illustrate Conflict. Baba Yaga has just spied a small child, lost in her forest and skirting a magic hedge. Feeling rather ravenous, she decides to attempt to capture the child to take home to her magic hut for a meal later (her Victory Conditions). Baba Yaga has a Heart of 4 and rolls a 6, for a total of 10. The child has a 5 Heart and rolls a 3 for a total of 8; the old witch wins the test of Courage and will begin the narration of combat. The child will count escaping from Baba Yaga as a victory.

Crescendo The winner of the Courage Roll begins the next step of the Conflict by narrating an action, called an Embellishment. This is a single act or short series of closely related acts. Once spoken, Embellishments cannot be changed. Players and Narrator should vividly relate their character’s actions in the Conflict, whether attacking, defending, or both, and should be creative and descriptive in their narrations. The Narrator judges each Embellishment and assigns it a Narrative Modifier, according to the guide on page 14, from -3 to +3. The Narrative Modifier is announced and recorded immediately. Narration is the heart of the Seven Leagues Conflict system. As with any roll, the Narrator may assign a bonus of up to +3 (or even a penalty!) for a particularly creative (or poor) narration or description, at her discretion. Even more than the Virtue score, the Embellishment’s Narrative Bonus is potentially the single greatest determinant of success in a Conflict.

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In addition, it plays an important role in determining character growth. The narrative thread of the Conflict then passes to the loser of the Courage Roll, who should respond to the first Player’s narration appropriately with her own Embellishment. This narration of Conflict passing from one Player to the next, like a story being handed around and embellished at each turn, is critical to the Conflict system in Seven Leagues. There are theoretically a limitless number of possible Embellishments. In practice, however, between 2 and 4 per character will be appropriate in most instances. This back-and-forth of Embellishments can be ended simply by any Player or the Narrator declaring Embellishment over. However, the other character(s) are allowed a final retort of one final Embellishment after this declaration. Naturally it behooves the Players to keep the Embellishment ball rolling for as long they are doing well. Once the Embellishments have been concluded, each Player tallies her cumulative Narrative Modifiers and records that value (hopefully positive). For the purposes of our example, we’ll assume that both the witch and the child are Protagonists (controlled by Players). If Baba Yaga were controlled by the Narrator, on the other hand, her Narrative Modifiers might be fixed at +1.


Baba Yaga flies towards the child in her magic mortar and pestle and tries to grab him (with her iron claws of course)—a direct assault and not terribly imaginative, but consistent with her Charms, Aspect, and Legend; the Narrator gives her a +1 bonus. The child tries to avoid Baba Yaga by quickly sitting down to tie his shoelace, thus ducking under the rim of her flying pestle. The Narrator thinks this is a clever way to use a reflexively childlike action as a defense, and so awards the child a +3 bonus. Next the witch swoops in low in her mortar and pestle, and rakes a nearby silver-barked poplar with her claws, attempting to careen around the trunk in a hairpin turn, and cutting the tree through and through to collapse on the child in the process! A +1 bonus for her. But the child sees the old crone’s broom dragging behind the mortar and pestle (to erase her tracks), grabs the lower ned of it, and uses Baba Yaga’s own momentum to carry him out from under the crashing poplar. Since he’s used Baba’s own Charm against her (the broom), the Narrator gives the child a +2 bonus. Seeing the child hanging onto the broom, Baba Yaga tries to lift him right into her pestle, hoping to stuff the little brat into a sack which she has ever at the ready for just such an occasion. Since she was responding to the child’s actions (hanging onto the broom end) the Narrator gives her a +1 bonus. Finally, the child tries to bite Baba Yaga’s hand as she attempts to lift him into the pestle. Again this is appropriate for a child, though not quite as clever as his earlier actions: still worth a +1. Feeling he is running out of options, the child declares that the Embellishments are concluded.

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As her retort, the furious witch lashes out with her claws. The Narrator gives Baba Yaga no bonus, even though her Player was true to her nature (blinded by hunger for the tasty young child)—such a simple attack might have even netted a penalty. Baba Yaga will carry a total of +3 into the Finale, while the child will have +6. Occasionally a Conflict will occur between two Protagonists, but most of the time it will be between Antagonists and Protagonists. A good Narrator will objectively rate both the Players’ narrations and her own when determining Narrative Modifiers, using the table on page 8. As an alternate to the Narrator’s judging the value of her own Embellishments, Antagonists may be given a uniform Narrative Modifier of +1. It is recommended that at the beginning of the Tale the Players vote whether to allow the Narrator to rate her own narratives or opt for the invariable +1

Finale

In the Finale, each character takes the cumulative of all the Embellishment Narrative Modifiers and Rolls 13, using her appropriate Virtue as a positive modifier, plus Circumstantial Modifiers set by the Narrator in the Overture. The character with both the highest adjusted roll and a minimum total of 13 has won the Conflict and the lower rolling character is Defeated, as influenced by the Victory Conditions established in the Overture


(these cannot be changed by the Player once declared in the Overture). If the winner rolls a natural 12 or the loser a natural 1, then the Defeat is spectacular.

John Anster Christian Fitzgerald

If neither characters gets a 13, or in the event of a tie, then the combat is at a stalemate. Either way, the Conflict is over, and may not recommence for a while — say not until a “change of scene”. The child rolls a d12 and gets a 6, plus his 6 Heart and +6 from his Embellishments. Thus with a total of 18 his teeth manage to find withered flesh between the old crone’s iron nails. Baba Yaga, on the other hand, rolls a 3, which with her 8 Hand and +4 from Embellishments gives her an adjusted 15, easily over the magic 13 but still short of the child’s score. Badly bitten, the witch reflexively drops the gnawing child, who manages to scurry away into and

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through the hedge, which Baba Yaga cannot penetrate (it is magical, after all, and she is in her flying mortar and pestle). The witch howls in Defeat!

Defeat Defeat can take many forms, but at minimum implies the vindication of the winner and dispossession of the losing character. At the very least, the Defeated character is incapacitated (for a long or a short time, as appropriate); what form that incapacitation takes depends on the nature of the combatants and their Aspects, as well as circumstances of the narration up to that point, and of course the Victory Conditions established in the Overture. Note that the winner’s Victory Conditions need not be applied literally, but rather serve as a framework which the Narrator will use to adjudicate Defeat. While Seven Leagues characters are in principle immortal, that doesn’t mean they are immutable; in fact they can and do change, sometimes for the worse. There are penalties other than death which can result from Defeat. These should be assigned by the Narrator based on the situation at hand as appropriate, and informed by the Aspects, Legends, and Victory Conditions of the two combatants. Possible additional Defeats include:


◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊

Maiming Loss of Luck Acquisition of a new Curse Loss of a Keyword Acquisition a new Taboo Loss of a Virtue point Loss of a Charm

It’s best to leave the details of the Defeat to the narration rather than rely on a predetermined “damage table”, but the above can be used as a guide. Also, the Narrator’s scripted Tale should have Victory Conditions listed for each confrontation. Loss of Virtue or a Charm should be reserved for Natural 12 (for the victor) or Natural 1 (for the Defeated) rolls. Defeated, nursing her wounded hand and pride, Baba Yaga may find that her Hand score has dropped by 1 point from her maiming (unlikely), or she will begin to relentlessly hunt this particular child (a new Taboo), or that she is now Cursed for having failed to capture and eat a tender child, a violation of one of her Taboos; this Curse may take the form of “-2 against young children” — quite a penalty given her “Eats children” Taboo!

Mêlée When there are mass combats (more than two opponents), all characters proceed as above. In the Overture, each character speaks in turn based on the Courage Roll (highest to lowest). In the Crescendo,

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each side pools all their Embellishment Narrative Modifiers and makes one collective Roll 13 in the Finale. The roll is made by the elected member of the group, using his appropriate Virtue score. Defeat is meted out by the Narrator as usual based on individuals’ Victory Conditions. Alternately, when devising a group of Antagonists, such as an army for example, the Narrator may consider a mass of lowly characters as a single being with an increased Virtue score, typically Hand. Whilst traveling through Lapland, Finn Fell Ninefoe is awakened from his camp by a thunderous roll. The area is too flat for this to be an avalanche; soon he sees the icy glittering spears of a vast column of the Snow Queen’s army. So numerous is the host that it takes from dawn until dusk for it to march by. Finn Fell Ninefoe has no quarrel with the monarch of winter or her army, nor they with him. He watches silently on as they march past him through the day, unable to advance in his travels. Had his friend Creakbone been with him, it might have been a different matter indeed, as the latter is a deadly foe of the Queen’s. In the great battle which would undoubtedly have ensued, the Protagonists might have faced the army as if it were a single being (or even two as a division might attack them each!). Instead of using each individual soldier’s Hand of 3, the Narrator might have assigned the army (or one of its divisions) a Hand of 9 or even higher.


Death Earlier, we said that Seven League characters are virtually immortal. Yet certain characters, whether Protagonists or Antagonists, could conceivably kill other characters. The Green Knight, for example, has a decapitating axe; Baba Yaga does after all eat small children; the Vampire craves human blood; and so on. How can this seemingly irreconcilable contradiction be resolved?

Victor Vasnetsov

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Here the Narrator must be guided by circumstances, the nature of the characters involved in the death, their Aspects and Legends, and good judgment. The killing of another character should only be allowed as part of stated Victory Condition if so doing is consistent with the killing character’s Aspect, Legend, or a Charm or Taboo. In other words, it is the exception, not the norm. Characters may also meet their demise out of combat, but only with the permission of the Player and when the Tale is served.


Designer’s!Notes Ties are deliberately common in Seven Leagues Conflicts: Virtue scores usually have single-digit values and there is a wide, linear spread of possible rolls on a d12. Conflict will therefore sometimes end in a draw. Two perfectly matched opponents will not normally defeat each other, unless other modifiers (like a Courage Roll, Narrative Bonuses, or situational modifiers) come into play. It is for this reason that the Narrative Bonus especially is allimportant — it literally makes the difference between a draw and a victory.

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Adjudicating!Charms!&!Taboos As stated earlier, Charms are extraordinary, typically magical abilities which almost all Seven Leagues characters possess. Rather than offer a limited list of possible Charms, it is left to the Narrator and Players to devise their own. Nevertheless, many Charms are offered with the sample characters. All Charms are only a phrase or at most a sentence, and the description must contain at least a noun and a verb. Charms are typically not quantified numerically, although rarely they might be.

Victor Vasnetsov

Charms may either be an expression of a character’s inherent ability, or a magical item the character possesses. In either case, the Charm cannot be taken away unless the character is Defeated or some Talespecific mishap befalls her. And just because a


Charm is inherent to the character doesn’t mean it can’t be lost or stolen. Charms function within the parameters of the character’s Aspect and Legend. The Narrator is the final arbiter on interpreting the scope and power of a Charm. In most cases, Charms simply work.

Spells!&!Magic Perhaps the most difficult Charms to arbitrate are those which are very open-ended, such as the ability to cast magic spells. This is especially true in combat, where a magician might seem to have a tremendous advantage over a character with more specific or fixed Charms. The key thing to remember is that regardless of the Charm, characters always play out combat according to the normal rules. In other words, the narration of the combat is the key determinant for the character’s Roll 13 in Overture, Crescendo, and Finale. Whether the character uses the device of a spell or a sword or some other means is secondary. Taking some liberties with Homer, let’s imagine the initial encounter between the enchantress Circe and Odysseus. Finding his men not returning from an exploratory foray

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onto the island of Aeaea, the hero leaves his ship and disembarks onto the enchantress’ isle. Upon arriving at the sorceress’ house, he quietly scouts the place and spies the witch turning his men into swine at the banquet she had laid out for them.

consistent with his Charm). Circe, on the other hand, only manages to wheel and raise her wand threateningly, and is awarded no bonus.

Odysseus charges into the room, sword drawn. We can safely assume that he has gained the Courage bonus in this Overture. He intends to bodily threaten the beautiful demigoddess — killing her wouldn’t be his style, but he will if he has to in order to save his men. Circe meanwhile raises her magic wand in order to transform Odysseus into a beast like his men. In other words, Victory conditions have been declared. If Odysseus wins, he will have cowed or killed the woman; if Circe wins, she will have another pig for her herd. In the context of Seven Leagues, the success of Circe’s action is predicated not on her Charm of transformation (we assume that her Charm pretty much works automatically — in other words Odysseus is not entitled to a separate “resistance roll” or “saving throw”), but is determined by the die rolls made within the structure of the Conflict rules laid out previously. Homer does not record those rolls for us, but with a little imagination we can reconstruct them. We’ll use the statistics for these two characters provide in Part 2, The Hut on Chicken Legs. Odysseus states that he is sneaking around rather than barging into Circe’s house, and the Narrator grants him a +2 bonus for the element of surprise (he gets such a high bonus because sneaking around rather than taking the frontal assault is


Artist unknown

Here Odysseus leaps forward, brandishing his short skirmish sword, the Greek one with the curved blade, yelling at the witch to drop her wand or meet his steel. Not too original, and worth only a +1 bonus — not a clever or eloquent narration, but the Narrator allows that Odysseus is trying to avoid

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spilling the witch’s blood. Circe, still fumbling with her wand, declares that she casts her spell. Awarded a bonus of +0 by the Narrator, her magic begins to take effect. Odysseus can feel a certain nausea overcome him as her spell begins its work of transforming him into a swine. But this is where the Embellishments end. Now our characters Roll 13. Odysseus rolls a 7 with a 6 Hand, and adds +3 for Embellishments: 16. Circe has tried to cast her spell, but with a roll of 5, +0 for Embellishments, and a 5 Head, she comes up with a 10. Short of the requisite 13, her spell fizzles, she drops her wand and is grasped forcefully by Odysseus. Who is this mortal who has bested her? Poor Circe finds herself attracted to this hero, and agrees to free his men of their enchantment. For a year she will be Odysseus’ lover (new Taboo!), until his pining for Penelope and Ithaka compels him to leave her. While it is true that the flexibility of magic (limited in all cases by the character’s Aspect) might give a character a narrative advantage, spells are not inherently more devastating or powerful than other Charms. The magician has the same storytelling requirements and makes the same die rolls as everyone else. Furthermore, there is no concept in Seven Leagues such as “spell damage” — only the combat’s outcome at the end of the Finale is important. The narrative, not the Charm, is the key.


Taboos Taboos are in a sense Charms that impact their owner negatively. They are inherent limitations placed on characters’ abilities, behavior, or appearance. Like Charms they cannot be lost without special conditions being met. Typically, the owner must undertake a quest as determined by the Narrator in order to remove a Taboo. Unlike Charms, Taboos have no specific grammatical requirements. Looking at the example Antagonists from The Hut on Chicken Legs, Baba Yaga is “Hideously ugly”, which means that she can't even attempt to Roll 13 for eliciting pity, love, et cetera: try as she might, she'll incite nothing but disgust, fear and revulsion. The Marquis of Carabas is “Vain”: he won't, whatever the circumstances, flatter others nor even recognize their achievements; he can’t help but show disdain. A Vampire, who “Craves human blood”, won't pass idly by an opportunity to feed (even if he's already fed moments before), and so on. Certain Taboos are physical in nature, and in that case the character is simply incapable of breaking them. Psychological Taboos, however, can be broken, but at a price. Even inadvertently breaking such a Taboo should result in an appropriate Curse, as determined by the Narrator.

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Disasters Occasionally in classic fairy tales characters fall off of cliffs or burn in house fires (especially as a fitting ending); even in Faerie Disasters can happen. In Seven Leagues, Disasters are treated as simple characters in the story, if inanimate ones at that. The Narrator should script the occurrence of these potential mishaps in her Tale just as an encounter with an Antagonist.

Being character-like, Disasters follow simplified rules derived from those governing Protagonists and Antagonists:

◊ Name, Aspect and Charms are collapsed into one

entry, the Disaster’s Aspect. The Aspect uses the same rules as for characters. Note that Disaster Aspects are always stated in terms of an event (A house fire) rather than an effect (Burning). ◊ Rather than having three Virtues, Disasters are rated by a single score, called Calamity, ranging from 1 to 13 (a 1 doesn't necessarily mean the Disaster isn’t dangerous, just that it has a remote possibility of causing harm). ◊ Disasters have no Taboos nor Fortune. They cannot be defeated, only survived. ◊ All Disasters have three Penalties, consequences representing the degrees to which the Disaster can affect a character. These are always listed from least to most injurious. The first Penalty is almost always a variation on temporary incapacitation. More injurious Penalties are rarely if ever given a numerical rating, and are appropriately either a change in the character’s description (Legend), change in Fortune, new Taboo, or loss or alteration of a Keyword. In general Penalties do not involve loss of Virtue or Charms.

N.C. Wyeth


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When a character is faced with a Disaster, play progresses as with any Conflict with exceptions noted below; the Narrator uses the Disaster’s Calamity for all rolls. In the Overture, if the character wins the Courage Roll he has an opportunity to escape the Disaster altogether. On the other hand, Victory Conditions are automatic: survival for the character, and prescribed for the Disaster by its Penalties. In the Crescendo, the Narrator describes the Disaster as it plays out, while the character responds with narrative Embellishments. Unlike a normal Conflict, however, each side is allowed at most three Embellishments, as Disasters tend to be compressed events. Oftentimes, a single Embellishment each will suffice to describe the scene. The Disaster’s Penalties are applied as follows in the Finale:

◊ If the character achieves a victory or rolls a natural 12 he is unscathed.

◊ If the Finale is a stalemate (neither side makes 13)

then the first, least harmful penalty is imposed. ◊ If the Disaster “wins” the Conflict (Narrator has high roll of at least 13), then the middle Penalty is applied. ◊ If the Narrator rolls a natural 12 OR the player rolls a natural 1, then the last Penalty is applied.


Naturally, certain Charms will allow automatic survival of a Disaster; a mermaid can’t very well drown in a shipwreck nor can a character with a Charm of Is impervious to fire be immolated in a house fire (although she could be hurt by a falling beam or collapsing roof); much less could a character who flies be concerned with a fall from a tall cliff. When designing Disasters as part of a Tale, the Narrator should keep in mind that like Conflict they serve to bring drama, danger, and narrative tension to the story. They should be dramatically realistic, but not necessarily physically so. In the context of fantasy, it is perfectly reasonable for a character to fall off a cliff and survive, though forever more walking with a marked limp. Below are seven sample Disasters to serve as inspiration for the Narrator. Not every house fire will be identical, two poisons aren’t necessarily the same, the circumstances of falls from a great height can vary, and so on. Narrators should use these examples to help them design their own, but shouldn’t copy them verbatim over and over again; these aren’t rules for Disasters, merely illustrations. Terms like “exhaustion”, “frailty”, “feebleness” et cetera are nuances of incapacitation, the minimum condition for a Defeat (even though these are applied in a tie!). The Narrator, with help from the Player, determines how long the character is incapacitated, based on the nature of the Disaster and the character’s Aspect. In general, it should be on the order of days (three, seven, thirteen, etc.).

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A!house!fire

Calamity 6 Penalty Exhaustion / Disfigurement / Death

Shipwreck!at!sea

Calamity 8 Penalty Feebleness / Marooned / Lost at sea

A!wasting!famine

Calamity 5 Penalty Frailty / Diminished eyesight and loss of teeth / New Taboo: Gluttony or Greed or other overcompensation for the experience of famine.

A!poisoned!apple

Calamity 4 Penalty Violently ill / Sleep until magically wakened / Waste away to nothing

A!withering!disease

Calamity 11 Penalty Bedridden / A limb is shriveled and rendered nearly useless / Whole body is almost mummified; character survives in a decrepit state, barely able to move about (Hand 1).

A!freezing!winter

Ivan Bilibin

A!tall!fall

Calamity 7 Penalty Unconscious / Broken bones and a permanent limp in gait / Lose a Keyword most closely associated with high places; if none seems pertinent then gain a new Taboo: acrophobia.

Calamity 6 Penalty Weakness / Loss of fingers and toes / Frozen forever more (or until magically revived)


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Influencing!the!Story number of Keywords in her Legend equal to her lowest Virtue. In each Tale, characters may add a feature to the Narrator’s story corresponding to a Keyword, thereby editing the Tale, with the following limitations:

◊ Each Keyword can at most be used once per Tale. All used Keywords are restored at the end of the Tale (unless lost as a result of a Defeat).

◊ The new feature spawned by the Keyword must be a noun (person, place, or thing). Marissa (waif) declares that the next village will be home to a kindly old woman who will take her in. The Narrator has complete control of the new character, however, and whatever might befall her.

◊ A new feature can only be added; an existing feature cannot be changed or removed. Taillefer, whose Legend includes the Keyword bard, declares one day while traveling with his companions that beyond the next hill lies a great carnival. Daniel Vierge

Both Antagonists and Protagonists can subtly (and sometimes not so subtly) alter the warp and weave of the Narrator’s Tale. Recall that each character has a


◊ The

new feature cannot immediately or intentionally harm another character (although it might eventually do so), but it can be used to thwart them.

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Finn Fell Ninefoe (mountaineer) while being tracked in the frozen waste by his enemies, creates a deep and vast crevasse in his passage. He can’t cause it to spring into being under his pursuers’ very feet — they will come upon it. If they insist on leaping over it or climbing down it, however, it’s possible they will suffer some mishap. Once per Tale and at any time in the Tale, a Player may attempt to underline an existing word in his Legend and add it as a Keyword. A Keyword can be added when it has been used in connection with a single action netting Narrative Modifiers totaling at least +7. The player Rolls 13, using the current number of Keywords as a modifier; failure indicates the new Keyword is added.


Characters can also undertake quests to either:

◊ Add new Keywords above and beyond the above rule; or

◊ To exchange existing Keywords for new words already in the Legend. For either option use the Character Growth rules below. At most one Keyword can ever be added per Tale.

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Character!Growth

E.A. Abbey

Over time and through several Tales, characters (both Protagonists and Antagonists) will change. The section on Conflict above has already covered how they will from time to time suffer Defeats and possibly thereby gain new Taboos or Curses, or have their Virtues diminished or even lose Charms. There are also opportunities in Seven Leagues for characters to increase their Traits, gain new ones, or simply change them around. Traits refer globally to Virtue scores, Charms, Taboos, Luck, and Curses. As might be expected, the rules for achieving this are in some measure fixed, but for the most part are guidelines. Traditionally, roleplaying games often distinguish what characters can do from how good they are at doing


them; in Seven Leagues that distinction is maintained in part by differentiating Charms from Virtues, respectively. But another way of thinking about Virtues is that in addition to being a measure of how good a character is at activities related to Head, Heart and Hand, they also globally represent the character’s Renown. After all, a character, whether Antagonist or Protagonist, who has high Virtue scores will tend to get noticed more than one who does not. Part Two, The Hut on Chicken Legs, discusses the relationship between the collective Mortal imagination and Faerie. Suffice it to say here that in addition to drawing their existence from the collective Mortal psyche, the Faerie also draw on each other for their power. In other words, a character’s Renown is the sum of his three Virtues scores — or the Virtues are derived from his Renown. Remember that each Player records the cumulative total value of Narrative Modifiers received in game play. Players may circle their current tally of Narrative Modifiers for the current Tale on the counter provided at the bottom of the character sheet. Alternately, the Narrator can record these. At the end of the Tale, the Player with the highest

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cumulative Narrative Modifier Rolls 13 using a Virtue of her choice; failure indicates the gain of one point in that Virtue.

which Virtue in cases where it might not be clear). No Player may roll to increase any Virtue more more than once per Tale, but in cases of multiple 13+ Narrative Modifiers may choose which one to roll for.

Transformation Minor changes to characters in the form of Luck and Curses have already been discussed previously. Characters can also undergo major transformations to their Charms and Taboos, although usually gradually. There are a multitude of devices for characters to change as a result of narration. The character could earn or find a magical item; be influenced by a magical place; fulfill a prophecy; drink from a magical fountain; be granted a wish by a powerful Faerie entity; et cetera. Consider too, that having a character die and then return after the requisite hiatus can be a dramatic and potent way of effecting radical change in the character’s Traits (see Death and resurrection above).

Howard Pyle

In addition, any Player who was awarded at least +13 in cumulative Narrative Modifiers in a single Conflict or action may make the above roll for the specific Virtue most used in the action (Narrator’s decision


Whether the change in question is the acquisition of a new Charm, loss of an existing Taboo, or the alteration of an existing one, makes no difference. The process is the same, and follows these three rules:

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◊ Initiation of the new Trait can come either from the Narrator or the Player. Either may feel that it is appropriate for a character to gain a new Charm or be rid of a Taboo. In the case of positive changes, if the proposed change comes from the Narrator, then the Player is allowed to decline the change (naturally no such option exists when it comes to Defeats!).

◊ The new Trait should always be consistent with the character’s Aspect (which itself cannot be changed except through death).

◊ New Traits should be scripted as part of a Tale, usually in the form of a quest. In any event gaining the Trait should involve the fulfillment of some prior condition. Once all the above conditions have been met, the Narrator should evaluate the new Charm and assign it a target cumulative Narrative Modifier, using the table below as a guide. Thus after fulfilling his quest the Player “spends” the appropriate cumulative Narrative Modifiers and the change is made to the Trait. A character can at most ever acquire three new Charms, not counting replacing lost ones. Whenever a new Charm or Taboo is acquired, altered or lost, the character’s Legend should be rewritten as required to account for the change.


Tally

+99 +88 +66 +55 +44 +33 +22

New!Trait

Add a new Charm Remove a beginning Taboo, one which the character has had since creation Alter an existing Charm Eliminate a Taboo gained in play Alter an existing Taboo Underline (add) a new Keyword Substitute one Keyword in the Legend for another

Resurrection On the rare occasions when it does occur, death in Seven Leagues need not be permanent. Any character who has been killed, whether through a Defeat dictated by an opponent's Victory Conditions, or even through some requirement of the Narrator’s Tale (a scripted death, if you will), will be available to be played again after missing three game sessions. This does not mean that the Protagonist must reappear on the fourth game session following his death, only that he may if the Player wishes. Alternately, the Narrator may allow a character to return sooner, provided an appropriate ritualistic observance is held (the dead character is feasted three times in the Hall of Heroes for example, or is retrieved from the Caverns of the Dead by his comrades). The returning character is essentially a new one and created as such, but one based on the old character,

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and benefitting from incarnation’s gains:

some

of

the

previous

◊ The returning

character’s Aspect will be transformed if the death was ritualized by the killing character and was a direct function of the killer’s Aspect or Charms. The new Aspect must include a word alluding to the killing character. The new Aspect may allude to the circumstances of the death (or resurrection), at the Player’s option. A Vampire kills Marissa (A sorcerous waif) in the usual way: by draining all her blood. Marissa will return as “A vampire waif”, acquire many or all of the classic vampire Charms and Taboos, and might even be enslaved by her killer. Bear (Mother of grizzlies) kills Longtooth Fangbite (A dire wolf) in a spectacular mountain battle culminating in a rock slide destroying Fangbite. Since Bear does not habitually kill with rock slides, the new Longtooth Fangbite need not allude to Bear in his new Aspect or Charms. But his aspect might become “A stone wolf” given how he met his doom, or even “A moonlit wolf” if he rises from beneath the Rockville on the night of a full moon. Naturally his new Charms would be adjusted accordingly.

Charms and Taboos must be consistent with the character’s new Aspect. The new character gets the same number of Charms and Taboos as any other beginning character (even if some Charms had been lost for example), except that the number of Charms gained or Taboos lost from the previous incarnation are carried over. Before dying in Bear’s rock avalanche, Longtooth Fangbite had earned a new Charm. In his new incarnation, he’ll have one Charm more than normally allowed a beginning character. Note the actual Charms gained are not necessarily carried over, just the number of Charms.

◊ Any gains in Virtues are carried over to the new

character; any losses are wiped clean. Hence the new character will have the same Renown as the old one, but at minimum 13, so Virtue losses from the previous incarnation are wiped clean, but gains are kept. Also, the balance of Head, Heart and Hand can be rearranged (a little or a lot, as is consistent with the new Aspect and pending the Narrator’s approval).

◊ Any Fortune (Luck or Curses) is wiped clean, just as with a beginning character.

◊ In order to represent the trauma of death, and the

fact of Seven Leagues’ characters mutability, at least one Charm or Taboo should be altered if not exchanged for a new one altogether. The new


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It is incumbent upon the Player to propose the character’s changes, and the Narrator to approve them, just as with a new character creation. Finally, the Player can choose new Keywords, even if the new Legend is similar to the old one. Let’s suppose that in the earlier example Baba Yaga did Defeat the child. He’d end up in her bag and on her supper table. If the character were an incidental one, a non-Player character just filling in the background perhaps to demonstrate the witch’s ferocity to a witnessing Protagonist, then his death might be considered definitive. If, however, the child were a Protagonist or an important character, then the Narrator should choose an appropriate Defeat. Perhaps he escaped after having had a hand eaten, or the witch forgot to feed him instead of fattening him up, and he got so thin (-1 Hand) that he slipped through the bars of his cage. If in spite of all that he did indeed get eaten, he could come back after three Tales or sessions, at the very least as a ghost, or as an autonomous skull atop her magic fence. He could even return as another child, but with slightly different Virtues, Charms, and Taboos. Arthur Rackham


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Seven!Protagonists In this section you’ll find seven beginning characters, from the simple to the complex. They are inspired from a variety of classic and modern sources. While they are designed to be template Protagonists, they can also be used by a Narrator as non-Player characters, and modified to suit. Note that occasionally a character will have an extra Taboo (extra in that it is an odd numbered one, and therefore not worth an additional Charm) when this simply makes sense for the character.

come. His illusions involve his sprinkling sand over eyes or objects to be glamoured.

The!Sand!Merchant Aspect Bringer of Sleep Virtues Head 4 / Heart 7 / Hand 2 Charms Puts you to sleep Casts illusions with magic sand Instant travel to bedrooms unnoticed Taboos Must come when called and children need to sleep Charms don’t work by day Legend Not to be confused with the God of Dreams (who is sometimes erroneously attributed as the Sand Man), the Sand Merchant is often referred to as the Sand Man. He appears as an elderly barefoot or sandal-shod man with a robe over a nightshirt, a long sleeping cap, friendly features with a pronounced Roman nose and glittering bespectacled eyes, carrying a satchel or bag filled with a seemingly endless supply of glimmering sand. When Mortal (and Faerie) children can’t sleep their parents sometimes murmur a prayer to the Sand Merchant, and then he is always sure to


W. Heath Robinson

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Kizz Aspect A gentleman ogre Virtues Head 2 / Heart 5 / Hand 6 Charms As strong as an ogre Has thick hide Impervious to disease and poison Taboos Vegetarian, but always hungry! Lisps due to tusks Legend Some Faerie folk have a penchant for practical, often cruel jokes. One of their tried and true ones is that of the changeling: exchanging a Mortal child for a Faerie one. It was thus that the infant ogre Kizz found himself raised by well-meaning Mortal parents of means in the Faubourg St. Germain sometime in the Age of Reason. His name is a corruption of “Qui ça?”, a childish “Who that?”, his own name for himself from when he first saw himself in a mirror. Kizz’ Mortal parents were Rationalists, and did not believe in Faerie or ogres, so they insisted that their son was merely the unfortunate victim of some birth defect. In spite of mounting evidence to the contrary (his alarming size, startling strength and penchant for raw meat, not to mention the bald pate, tusks and small, pointed ears) they continued to raise him as a mortal child, and gave him the best education that their comfortable existence could afford. At the age of six he was traumatized when he could not control his ravenous appetite for living meat and ate a beloved pet, his cat Roux. Afterwards Kizz foreswore all meat, and has since subsisted on the likes of frisé lettuce and stewed eggplant. As a young adult Kizz participated in the salons of his day, which is how he fell in with some Parisian occultists, one of whom showed him the Kissing Point in the Cimetière du Père-Lachaise.


Since his return to Faerie, Kizz has maintained many of his Mortal habits. He still refuses meat, although hunger almost always gnaws at him. He dresses like a bourgeois of the 19th century: colorful silk waistcoat, tailored trousers, monocle, walking stick. His speech, while difficult to understand, is cultured, although due to his ogreish limitations he has read (and quotes) more literature than he truly understands. Favorite author: Voltaire. He misses his morning coffees and evening cognacs dearly.

Shehshoya Aspect A butterfly nymph Virtues Head 4 / Heart 7 / Hand 2 Charms Flies silently Can be virtually invisible Blows pass through her Taboos Amorous Not so good on a windy day Legend Shehshoya is one of innumerable nymphs inhabiting Faerie, minor spirits associated with a natural phenomenon. In her case she appears as a lithe woman covered entirely in butterflies (by day) or moths (by night), floating gracefully just above the ground, ever surrounded by a wispy cloud of lepidoptera. As she moves, she leaves behind dead butterflies in her wake, but new ones alight upon her immediately to take their place. When she passes by, flowers bloom and their nectar is sucked dry in a moment by her attendants, as she refers to the butterfly cloud. It is unclear whether there is actually a “person” beneath the insects, or whether the butterflies collectively are Shehshoya.

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If need be, she can instantly arrange all her butterflies to perfectly camouflage her with her surroundings, becoming virtually invisible.

Légerdoigt

Charles Robinson

The nymph’s voice is a melodic whisper (when you say her name, breathe it out slowly); her touch is as light and airy as the kiss of a butterfly. She is very flirtatious, even aggressive with her advances, swirling around her intended and showering him with thousands of feathery kisses.


Aspect A small trickster Virtues Head 5 / Heart 3 / Hand 5 Charms He’s terribly sneaky Has countless small magical props He’s a master of disguises Taboos Kleptomaniac Legend Légerdoigt (lay·jher·dwah) is a small dexterous gnomish fellow with a dry sense of humor and unprepossessing manner. He appears oldish and somewhat shriveled, his eyes are twinkly and sometimes kindly — although he can be threatening when need be. Whether this is Légerdoigt’s true appearance is disputable. In any event, he is never without his battered leather satchel. This shoulder-slung and coffee-stained pouch looks all the world like a bohemian novelist’s book bag, coffee stains and cigarette burns and all. It is marked with a faded gold monogram: PDQ. The satchel contains an astounding array of devices, some seemingly enigmatic and purposeless, others practical, all obviously magical. Among the trinkets he has been known to pull forth from the satchel: a whistling teakettle, piping hot; a magic sword; rope that tied itself; a novel in an unknown language filled with dark secrets (one supposes); magical lock picks which quietly open doors at Légerdoigt’s command; a kaleidoscope which makes anyone peering through it insane; a dented chipped chamber pot which sings a bawdy tune when used.

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A well-known Tale in Faerie recounts that once the Shadow of Shadows tried to steal Légerdoigt’s satchel from him, only to find the old gnome springing from it once he opened it to examine its contents. He was so startled that Légerdoigt snatched it back and escaped. Légerdoigt’s sole joy in life is the taking of other people’s property. He does this without concern for others nor out of cruelty. It is a compulsion, like eating or sleeping to you or me. Do you mourn the celery stalk, straight and true, cut down in its prime for tonight’s soup? He is not particularly interested in keeping things, so he is just as likely to pawn the Oyster King’s crown jewels for a fine meal and a pipe than concern himself with its true value. And he is so elusive that one may as well give up on getting one’s stolen property back from him, and seek rather to find where he unloaded it. As one might expect, Légerdoigt is rather nonmaterialistic, and somewhat prone to philosophical bantering with cronies, companions, and marks alike. He presents a rather shabby, if outlandish and fantastic appearance: part middle-aged academic, part garden gnome.

Crazy!Nonna

Aspect A sorcerous ragpicker Virtues Head 5 / Heart 6 / Hand 2 Charms Drifts in and out of Mortal and Faerie realms Performs hedge magic Has witch sight Taboos Lives on the street Mad (as in hatter) Legend Old Maria has lived on the streets of Mortal cities for as long as she can remember. She began her existence as a Mortal in the highlands of Tuscany; as a child


she witnessed the horrors of the Florentine plague of 1348. She survived, but the experience traumatized her, driving her more than a little mad. A student of hedge magic from an early age, she learned the virtues of plants and herbs, the power of muttered incantations, and the potency of midnight rituals. Throughout her life she traveled from village to village, serving as midwife or healer or poisoner as the need arose, avoiding persecution by the Church by virtue of her stooped and ragged appearance (and a well-placed spell or two). Often village children would chase after her with cries of “Pazzesca nonna!” until she would turn and frighten them with a crooked smile or baleful glare. Those brave enough to approach her after that would be told a magical story or receive a blessing. In her travels and by virtue of her magical affinities she had frequently trespassed into Faerie. By the Quattrocento her life was already far longer than most of her Mortal contemporaries; it must have been sometime in the early years of that century that she truly became a denizen of that magical Realm. Nowadays Crazy Nonna visits the Mortal realm from time to time, much as she visited Faerie in days of old. You can see her on the street, from New York to Palermo to St. Petersburg, a homeless ragpicker with a strange gleam in her eye and mumbling countless stories to herself. Mortal children still chase after her, although they are warier now. They can tell there is something otherworldly about this creature which adults fail to notice, as is often the case in matters of Faerie. And if she takes a shine to someone she’ll dispense a bit of wisdom or a potion or a spell, according to their need.

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Creakbone Aspect A sentient tree Virtues Head 2 / Heart 4 / Hand 7 Charms Reigns over his forest Domain As strong as a giant Animates forest plants to carry out his will Taboos Afraid of fire Enemy: Mother Winter Legend Creakbone was a sapling when the Gloomwand was already well established; nevertheless this gnarled and massive tree-giant is old even by Faerie’s reckoning. Ages ago Creakbone migrated out of the shadow of that place, and nurtured his own small forest, which now bears his name. Not as vast as the Gloomwand by any means, it is nevertheless a Domain, and Creakbone is its master. Creakbone’s toes often furrow rootlike in the soil of his home, and it is thus that he knows of the doings, comings and goings in his woodland kingdom. The trees, birds and stones speak to him, and even the satyrs, dryads and fairies of his wood owe him some allegiance. If need be, he can even wake the trees of the forest to do his bidding; then they bend their branches to thwart intruders, and can even move by night to relocate themselves as Creakbone desires. Some of the trees are malicious in their own right, and will at times frighten or threaten visitors to the forest of their own volition. When standing still, Creakbone can easily be mistaken for a moss-covered old oak, bare-branched in places, huge and stooped, but still hale. He will often stay rooted in the same place for a season or more, and then the illusion of being a tree is complete. When awake his large


green-flecked hazel eyes gaze out intently, and when he speaks his deep slow voice is powerful and authoritative.

Arthur Rackham

Creakbone would relish the wintertime when he and his trees can rest, were it not for his nemesis Mother Winter. She delights in spreading mischief in the cold season, when Creakbone is sluggish and less well able to monitor his Domain. On occasion he will leave his home, to wander other forests of Faerie, and keep a watchful eye for signs of expansion of the Gloomwand.

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Raven

Artist unknown


Aspect A trickster bird Virtues Head 4 / Heart 5 / Hand 4 Charms Fly tirelessly Lie shamelessly Melt in shadows Dream of the future Talk with the dead Put to sleep with his voice Taboos Glutton Braggart Coward Keeps his word Legend Raven is the native Trickster of the Northern woodlands. He is well-known to most tribes, well-liked by those he has helped, despised by those he has robbed of food or glittering trinkets. He is thus a wanderer, having to flee from victims as well as from allies lest he turns his wiles on them and thereby lose their trust. He can be found at funerals, where he can hear gossip and steal from shallow graves. His favorite time is twilight, when he is one with the blurred shades and yesterday turns into tomorrow. He claims to have escaped unscathed from the very maws of the Dog of the Underworld and hunted with the Wild Huntsman, but this can safely be dismissed as at best gross exaggeration.

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Part!the!Second

The!Hut!on!Chicken!Legs The Tales of Seven Leagues take place within the land of Faerie. This not a country of definite borders or a fixed geography. Nor is it one with a defined map which every Narrator is expected to adopt. Within its fluid and malleable confines lie enchanted forests, vast caverns, magical palaces, storm-tossed oceans, eternal deserts, precipitous mountains, and meandering rivers — and the fairy creatures who populate them. Each Narrator should bring her own interpretation of Faerie to the game table, and take the source material presented in the section as inspiration rather than gospel. In this chapter, we’ll discuss the general nature of Faerie, some of its geographical regions — Provinces and Domains — , and the denizens who inhabit them. We’ll also look at how Faerie interacts with the Worlds — that is, the Mortal realm — and the nature of their particular relationship. Finally, a host of sample Antagonists are offered to serve as inspiration and illustration.


Ivan Bilibin

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Nature Faerie is a mirror, a reflection of the collective mythological unconscious of the Mortals who inhabit our own mundane world. But if mirror it is, it is one whose surface is clouded, misted, shadowy, blurred. It does not reflect the physical nor historical Mortal realm, but instead its stories, myths, dreams, aspirations, hopes, fears, desires, urges, loves, hatreds and poetry. Faerie is seductive. Faerie is fierce. Faerie is dangerous and a sanctuary. It is the dream of a lover barely remembered moments after awakening. It is the devastation of a lost child. It is the gladness in the heart when singing a song. It is the despair and insanity found in absinthe. It is the unfamiliar forms familiar objects take in a child’s room in the middle of the night. It is your first kiss. It is your last breath. Time and therefore distance in Faerie are subjective and mutable. Long distances are measured in the number of days or lands it takes to traverse them; Baba Yaga’s forest is seven kingdoms away, for example. When traveling, cardinal directions are meaningless, except to note that the sun rises in the east, sets in the west, and that generally it is colder in the north. The lands of Faerie tend to be sparsely inhabited wilderness, as befits a fairy tale. There are few cities, although those that exist are a marvel to behold.


Aubrey Beardsley

Faerie creatures eat, drink and sleep only because the Mortals who dream them expect them to, not because they biologically have to. They have coins when they need to buy something, but it would be absurd to discuss of “the Faerie economy”. Objects in

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Faerie are persistent only insofar as they are important to a character or a story, and as a result there are at times inconsistencies and discontinuities in Faerie. But just as in a play after the scene is changed between acts the audience does not fret about where the set pieces have gone, so too in Faerie there is little concern about the fate of off-stage “props”, even places and characters. Things exist when and where they need to, and don’t when they aren’t needed. (To a certain extent Faerie characters even know that they are fairy-tale characters, although they rarely acknowledge the fact. They are fictions who


know that they are fictions, albeit are not any less emotionally real for it.) In short, the Narrator should feel free to structure his vision of Faerie to suit his whims or the needs of the Tale at hand, and allow (and even deliberately create) inconsistencies. It is recommended that these be gradual and not abrupt: perhaps an Antagonist met in an earlier Tale has forgotten the Protagonists or has changed slightly; a kingdom once visited is now “far far away” and (for the moment) cannot be reached; and so on. This will only serve to increase the Players’ sense of surreality when in the Narrator’s setting.

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Provinces Formed as it is from Mortal mythology, Faerie has no definite size or permanent geography, nor does it have a fixed cultural imprint. Most of it resembles a natural wilderness of startling sublimity, referred to simply as the Wilds, the most unstructured and mutable part of Faerie. In the Wilds one can find endless forests; vast prairies of wind-swayed wildflowers and grasses; karst-like mesas of stunning violets and rusts; rolling verdant hills hemming in deep narrow lakes; snowy coniferous expanses inhabited by bear and caribou — in short any imaginable primeval Mortal milieu.

Artist Unknown


Yet some of Faerie’s geographical features are so pervasive in the Mortal collective psyche that they may as well be fixtures of the Faerie landscape. Even these places, like the Gloomwand or the Caverns of the Dead, have no permanent geographic relationship to each other as a rule. That said, Faerie does not upheave itself overnight, but gradually changes like a lazily revolving kaleidoscope. Follows are brief descriptions of seven Faerie Provinces. Each Narrator should feel free to ignore or change these or add her own. By definition Provinces are more or less stable, and furthermore do not rely on any single entity for their identity, unlike Domains (see below). A Province need not be large: some are quite small, others immense. Their distinguishing characteristic is their (relative) permanence due to their cultural significance. Each Province is given an Aspect, just like a character’s, representing the minimum knowledge that anyone would have of the place. In the case of Provinces the Aspect is called its Genius Loci. The Narrator should also figure that even if not clearly remembered, all of these places figure prominently in Mortal dreams, fertile ground indeed for the Narrator to unearth her own Provinces! In addition, each Province has an Influence. This is a

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list of three words — consistent with the place’s Genius Loci — which characterize the behavior of natives and events in the Province, and which may also influence visitors there. In many ways Influence is to a Province as Keywords are to characters: only in this case Influence is a means by which a place can affect a character, and not the other way ’round. The Narrator should use Influence as a guide when playing Antagonists in determining their general demeanor.

Influence!Bonus Protagonists are also subject to Influence, in the form of an additional Narrative Bonus. Whenever a Protagonist narrates an action which plays on a


Province’s Influence — either by directly incorporating one or more of the Influence words into her narration or just adhering to the spirit of the place, the Narrator must award a +1 bonus per Influence word used to the character’s Roll 13. This is true even (or especially!) if the Influence is contrary to the character’s own Aspect. This represents the only instance in Seven Leagues when Protagonists are encouraged to act outside of character. It is, after all, called Influence for a reason. Note that the Influence bonus is in addition to any others awarded for good narration, and applies to each Influence word (hence up to +3) implicated in the narration.

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The!Caverns!of!the!Dead Genius Loci Influence

A haunted labyrinth Despair, Dread, Damnation

The Caverns of the Dead are a vast, twisting, labyrinthine series of underground galleries inhabited by the shades of the Mortal departed.

Victor Vasnetsov

Hemmed in and circled on all sides by completely impassable swamps, there is only one possible path to them. Regardless of the direction from which the Caverns are approached the path will emerge from the lugubrious mists of the marshes to face any travelers. Clammy and wet like a drowned man, the


swamps will thwart any who stray off the path, whether by foot or wing. No Charm can penetrate them, and those who fail to heed the telltale signs warning travelers to stay on the path meet a terrible end. It is said that those who die in the marshes are utterly forgotten by friend, foe, kith and kin. The head of the path is always guarded, but the nature of the guardian changes from Tale to Tale. Sometimes it is a terrible monster which must be bested in combat, but more often than not it is a mysterious figure who demands that a riddle be answered. If the guardian is not overcome or enigma solved, then the marsh mists shift and the path is lost. The path through the swamps is three days long, and terminates in a rounded stone crag split open by huge cave opening of natural rock, black with age and mossed with lichen, yawning cavernously like the gaping mouth of cyclopean stone skull. This cave mouth, too, is guarded, but always by the same sentinel: a fearsome giant whose feet are buried in the rock of the hillock before the cave mouth. Whipcrag is his common name: his head nearly reaches the pall of low clouds that ceiling the place, and he wields a massive whip made of hundreds of segments of articulated human bone. The giant will ignore any Faerie creature, allowing them free entry to the Caverns of the Dead with

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hardly a grunt. But woe to any Mortal who attempts entry! Seeing a Mortal approach, Whipcrag will be true to his name, lashing the miserable wretch to death with a blinding blow of his bone whip, then calmly adding the poor unfortunate’s bones to his weapon. The only way for a Mortal to enter the Caverns of the Dead proper is to threaten the giant with his Inner Name. (It may be that Whipcrag’s Inner Name is within the Caverns themselves, and known to certain Dead. Thus a Faerie being must aid a Mortal in entering the Caverns).

Whipcrag Aspect Virtues Charms Taboos

Sentinel of Hell Head 2 / Heart 3 / Hand 21 Huge giant Wields a fierce bone whip Cannot be surprised Ignores Faerie beings Bars Mortals from entering the Caverns of the Dead Cannot leave his post

The Caverns themselves are gloomy indeed. The Dead there are not truly ghosts in the sense of being the actual spirits of the Departed. Rather, they are the phantom impressions of the dead, ghostly afterimages that have slipped away to Faerie. For if living Mortals dream of Faerie, then many of their dreams remain there even when the dreamers have passed.


The Caverns are varied in scale and appearance. Some are claustrophobic and nearly impassable crawl spaces, others are rough but vast natural caves, while others still are grandiose hypostyle halls of stone whose soaring ceilings are supported by elaborately carved columns. All are interconnected by a bewildering maze of shifting passages. Few ever visit the Caverns, but fewer still return, and many a being has lost her way, never to emerge.

The!Dead Aspect Virtues Charms Taboos

The haunted dead Head 3 / Heart 7 / Hand 0 Insubstantial Can steal Fortune Hate the living Cannot leave the Caverns Bound by their word Must answer questions truthfully, although may employ riddles

The Dead themselves tend to congregate in caverns that suit their station or nature in Life. Those who were powerful tend to find themselves in great halls, while criminals and the insane lurk in the crawl spaces and oubliettes. The Dead do not speak unless spoken to, but then they can be dangerous, for they can steal Luck from or even bestow Curses upon visitors if they are upset or crossed. They appear vague and ghostly, like shadows with features, except for their eyes, which shine fever-bright.

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Given such an inhospitable place, few venture there except for very good reasons. Mortals sometimes venture there in order to find the answer to some question or speak to a departed loved one. Faerie beings may journey to the Caverns in order to fulfill a dangerous quest, eradicating some Taboo or removing a Curse.

Gustav Klimt


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Gloomwand Genius Loci Influence

A dark forest Sinister, Primordial, Menacing

and not a few of whom are of unusual size, from gossamer-winged dragonflies of prodigious size to enormous talking caterpillars.

It is said that the Gloomwand is the most ancient of all the many forests and woods of Faerie. Its primeval trees range from mighty and gnarled oaks to elms and ashes, from beeches and linden to towering pines whose leaves are so dark as to seem black. Everywhere the forest grows thick and hoary, whether in valleys or flatlands or as it covers and engulfs whole mountains. As its name implies, the Gloomwand is for the most part a dark and forbidding place, and even its clearings and rare meadows seem oppressed by the old menacing trees which encircle them, as if the occasional dapple of bright sunlight only serves to underscore the deep melancholy of the place. The Gloomwand is home to all manner of beings, from every imaginable forest animal to the most fantastical Faerie creatures. Not all of them are malevolent, although many are at least indifferent to the fate of visitors. Satyrs and fauns live upon its wooded slopes; centaurs and trolls roam beneath its gloomy boughs; and dryads and hobgoblins delight and dismay the unwary — to name but a very few of its many denizens. Serpents and spiders live there too, and darker beings besides. The Gloomwand is also home to many animals, from bears to boars and harts, several of whom have the power of speech,


Arthur Rackham

Within this vast forest are innumerable Domains. One, for example, is said to be ruled over by

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Ungthart, a talking spider of huge size. In another, Queen Mab reigns over her gamboling elf-kind, fairies, atomies, and their insect servants: In shape no bigger than an agate-stone On the fore-finger of an alderman, Drawn with a team of little atomies Athwart men’s noses as they lie asleep; Her wagon-spokes made of long spiders’ legs, The cover of the wings of grasshoppers, The traces of the smallest spider’s web, The collars of the moonshine’s watery beams, Her whip of cricket’s bone, the lash of film, Her wagoner a small grey-coated gnat, Not so big as a round little worm Prick’d from the lazy finger of a maid; Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut Made by the joiner squirrel or old grub, Time out o’ mind the fairies’ coachmakers. —William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet Act I, Scene IV, lines 50-64 And indeed wee folk aplenty can be found in the Gloomwand, although they are secretive and shy: gnomes, pixies and sprites, to name but a few. Indeed, for all of its darkness and seeming


forlornness, the forest is teeming with life, although most of its creatures skulk warily beneath its midnight canopies.

John Anster Christian Fitzgerald

Perhaps due to its great age, there are more Kissing Points in the Gloomwand than almost any other Province in Faerie. This may explain why so many Mortal tales portray Faerie as a forest.

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Gothga Genius Loci Influence

City of crossroads Byzantine, Sadistic, Corrupt

fountain motif. Common, too, are statues of a oneeyed man leaning on a spear, hat brim pulled down as if expecting rain.

Gothga is a sprawling city-state founded on a crossroads. Sited at the intersection of the only road to ever leave the Blue Forest and an important highway down to the Sea, it is said to be one of the oldest cities in all of Faerie, insofar as Faerie measures time and age. As much as it may superficially resemble an ancient Mortal city, albeit a fantastical and exotic one, this place is pure Faerie: huge and colorful, full of bizarre and menacing pageantry. Crossroads and gallows figure prominently in Gothga. The city emblem is alternately the hangman’s noose and the cross (displayed like an X), and every intersection bears some insignia — be it in the key paver of the crossroad, or on a nearby monument, statue or fountain. In Gothga, to tell a lie at a crossroads earns the liar a Curse, so deals and contracts are always struck at a crossroads or intersection. The most oft-used unit of distance (and time) is the crossing, as in, “The tailor is two crossings from here.” The day of rest here is Wednesday, sometimes called Mercurai. There are certain recurring figures in the myriad statues throughout the city; an old man with a crutch sprinkling water accompanied by a dog is a common


Arthur Rackham

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Gothga is governed by a Padishah drawn from the ranks of the nobility, a tyrant and nearly absolute prince who rules the city-state through coercion and manipulation. Gothgans tend to knuckle under to authorities above them, and in turn exercise their authority over those beneath them. Mores in the city are corrupt. Cut off as they are from the rest of Faerie, they have little outside contact except for slight sea commerce with the mysterious Pythians, an introverted serpent race. There is therefore little incentive or opportunity for new ideas and fresh perspectives. Your typical Gothgan is selfish, sometimes melodramatically sentimental, somewhat cruel, intelligent and fatalistic.

Supervius!Mal!the!Thirteenth Aspect Virtues Charms

A tyrant ogre Head 3 / Heart 4 / Hand 9 As strong as a bull Is a necromancer Rules over his Domain, the Gallows district of Gothga Taboos Paranoid Cruel and vicious Glutton Cannot resist a wrestling match Legend This gargantuan fellow has a penchant for wrestling and grappling. His prodigious gluttony is exceeded only by his notorious cruelty. Life in his court is rife with intrigue and byzantine machinations, poisonings, seductions, torture and necromancy.


Dean Cornwell

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By the author


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Quarters The Blue Forest extends, it is said, forever; no one has ever found its far border (it may really just be an extension of the Gloomwand). The place is reputed to be inhabited by strange and fantastic creatures; tales abound of fauns, satyrs, centaurs, sprites and malicious atomies. Not really a quarter, the Outer Grim is so called because it is the last place the rising sun touches in Gothga. This destitute valley is little more than a shantytown, home to Gothga’s paupers, beggars, prostitutes, criminals, the desperate and the maimed. Filth and disease run rampant here; outsiders who drink the water, eat the food, or are bitten by the vicious gloom fly (a painful horsefly) are likely to catch a dire fever or ague.

Grim!fever Calamity Penalty

5 Exhaustion / Deep depression / Suicidal; Roll 13 vs. Heart each day to avoid seeking death.

Grimwall stands against the encroachment of the Outer Grim shantytown; hence its name. It is home to artisans and craftsmen: smiths, carpenters, potters, tanners, coopers, weavers, glazers and wainwrights. Nobles, merchants and their attendant artists live in the Songmakers Quarter. It is said that the only sovereign remedy against grim fever is a song from one of its many talented musicians.


The home of the Padishah’s palace, the Gallows district is so named for the public executions which are an almost daily occurrence even to this day. The various ministries — the Exchequer, Carnifex, civil and criminal Courts — all are located here, as are the homes and offices of various ministers, magistrates, administrators and ministerial factors. The oldest part of Gothga is the area now known as the Necropolis. Originally a gallows ground, it has become a vast walled cemetery. Gothgans joke (rather ruefully) that its ramparts are designed to keep the Dead in. Abandoned except at its edges, this quarter is immense, filled with graves, mausolea, monuments, sepulchers, tombs and vaults. It extends in a widening swath beyond the northern reaches of the map. In the wilder parts of the quarter, which long ago reverted to a natural state of overgrown decay, dangerous creatures (and worse) abound. Many a sepulture and ancient tomb complex is haunted by lugubrious Faerie nightmares: harpies, ghouls and even vampires. Of them all, the most notorious and feared is the Hangman. Some legends say that the Hangman, often also called the Hanged Man, was an early prince of the city who met the gallows head-on and has haunted Gothga ever since. Others claim that he is the embodiment of all that is morose and corrupt in the city. Mention of him goes all the way back to the

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earliest tales and legends of Gothga. To the nobility, he is a patron saint, the Lord of the Crossroads, the titular head of the city. To the common citizen, he is a symbol of terror.

ancient subterranean royal mausolea, others to haunted areas where those who provoke the Court’s severest displeasure are left to their fate.

The!Hanged!Man Aspect Patron of Gothga Virtues Head 1 / Heart 1 / Hand 21 Charms Is silent and deadly with his noose Reigns over his Domain, the Necropolis of Gothga Can never be killed, but always returns unchanged Taboos Can only leave the Necropolis on the winter solstice Hideous: bulging eyes, face a massive bruise, swollen tongue Single-minded murderer Legend Tales abound of heroes of old going forth into the Necropolis and slaying the Hangman, but he always comes back. One night a year, on the winter solstice, the Hanged Man wanders the streets of Gothga looking for someone to take back to the depths of the Necropolis. On that night all Gothgans stay indoors. In the southwest corner of the Necropolis, built into its very walls, is the gloomy and convoluted Palace. While the families of those who have served as Padishah are buried nearby, it is also rumored that a warren of tunnels originates from beneath the Palace and extends into the Necropolis, some leading to


Julia Emily Gordon

Suffering from its proximity to some of the most notorious areas of the Necropolis, much of the city’s waste is dumped in the Forsaken Quarter’s northern end, also the home of Gothga’s nightsoilmen. The source of most of Gothga’s stone is Quarry, naturally the home of the city’s masons, who are a tight-knit and insular bunch. The limestone cliffs which constitute this area overlooking the harbor have been mined and quarried for centuries. As accessible surface stone diminished, the masons of Quarry delved deep in the earth. Many of the extensive galleries have been abandoned over the years as they have been exhausted or become dangerous. Eventually Gothgans began burying their

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dead in the abandoned limestone mines as an alternative to the dangerous Necropolis. Unfortunately, the same dark forces which haunted the Necropolis also began to infest the catacombs. Since then the practice of burying the dead in the abandoned quarries has largely ceased, and most of the disused tunnels sealed. But a few unpleasant things still haunt them, and occasionally surface.

eat a baker’s dozen to benefit from their good fortune, but thirteen of these little breads will make you very sleepy. Mother Windows has always sold her buns from her roving cart, avoiding detection by the Padishah’s agents at all costs, for she fears the secret of her buns being wrested from her.

The monumental Lighthouse was built in the days when there was more trade with the Pythians and other long-gone peoples. By night a permanent fire illuminates the harbor and serves as a beacon for those few ships that still come to Gothga. By day the Lighthouse emits a towering pillar of black and orange smoke which is visible for leagues at sea. The two quarters of Crookhollow and the Levant are the most placid in Gothga, home to many of the city’s scribes, shopkeepers and workers. The bakery of Mother Windows is a local secret.

Mother!Windows Aspect A roving baker Virtues Head 3 / Heart 7 / Hand 2 Charms Her magic breads Cannot be found by the Gothgan authorities Taboos Wanders Gothga selling her wares Goodhearted: can’t resist helping those in need Legend Her hot cross buns are not only delicious but also bring good luck. A little-known fact is that you have to


Romualdo Prati

The great bridge of Pontus is almost a town in and of itself. Spanning across two islands, the bridge is mostly built on three levels, carrying foot and cart traffic as well as being a major aqueduct; houses and shops are built right on it. Pontus’ poor ply a small trade in trinkets and sundries from a moveable bazaar of small boats and skiffs, while the children fish from the dubious waters of the bay. There is a legend among the children that anyone catching Grandfather Carp alive will be forevermore blessed.

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Once upon a time, when Gothga was a major trade center, Harbor was its economic heart. From here ship captains sailed across vast seas to trade with distant lands. All attempts to reopen old trade routes have long since failed: all that the captains find today are open seas for as far as they dare to sail. Only the Pythians, serpent-people who lead entirely nomadic lives aboard their ships, now trade with Gothga. This former center of commerce is little better than a fishing village. Entire ships have been pulled from the water and inhabited as buildings. There are few sea captains and sailors left, inhabiting the ruins of former greatness and subsisting on the meanest piracy they can visit on the coast and the Pythians. Situated on a hilltop island in the Serpentine River, Craven (a corruption of Crag Raven) is a small community nestled among the ruins of an ancient castle, long-abandoned as the city became cut off from the rest of Faerie. Life here is no easier than elsewhere in Gothga, but it is quieter. An odd mix of folk live in Craven, shunning contact with their fellows: escaped criminals; Duskers who chose the solitude of windy Craven over the unbearable Outer Grim; hermits and recluses who come here to fulfill some Curse. Many underground passages riddle the ruins of the old castle, some of which have already been claimed by those Faerie beings wishing absolute privacy ... If the Blue Forest reeks of the supernatural, the community of Thistle and the northern reaches of


the Thistlewood against which it is built stink of something else: soot. Once this area was all stone houses and broad streets, complete with bath houses and arenas. Nowadays, the stones of old Thistle are likely to be used to shore up a faltering garden wall, and old men digging in their gardens and children playing in the broad grassy streets are likely to turn up an old fragment of the past in the form of a piece of statuary or a broken column capital. Many of the great buildings are partially standing, but they have fallen into grave disrepair and partial collapse, and repurposed for other uses. The great Arena, or what’s left of it, is now an open-air stock market, and goats graze and are bought and sold where great thespians of the distant past once spoke longforgotten lines. A community of woodcutters lead a hard scrabble life, continuously burning the wood they harvest from the forest to make coal for the cooking fires of Gothga. The ironically-named Mirth quarter is a vast and dour landscape. Once the very trees and brambles of the Thistlewood extended as far north as the gaping banks of the Noose river, skirting the noble houses and broad avenues of Thistle. Now the trees are gone, replaced by poor, thin, rocky soil. What few crops the farmers don’t eat themselves they sell for a pittance to their fellow Gothgans. So maligned is the produce of Mirth that anything ugly in Gothga is said to have the face of a mirthapple (as the wretched local potatoes are called).

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Underhome Genius Loci Influence

A dark fairyland Frivolous, Poetic, Beautiful

Often heroes and Protagonists in Faerie take shortcuts (whether by guile or accident) in their long journeys. Sometimes they find a secret cave leading to a forgotten passage under an impassable mountain range; or they fall down an abandoned well only to find a community of night goblins living there; or investigating an old wardrobe in their basement they find a loose stone leading to an unknown crawl space and tunnel. Faerie, it turns out, is as honeycombed with dark underground spaces as the Mortal psyche is riddled with dark places.

shimmering pools whose surfaces are illuminated with the frenzied glow of thousands of zigzagging fireflies. The pools themselves glow with cool aquas, azures and verdigris from the phosphorescent mosses which line their bottoms. The dance of insects and the weird radiance of the pools are refracted a thousand times by the glittering crystals which grow like frost on the walls and ceilings of these vast caverns.

All these chthonian spaces are convolutedly interconnected; collectively this subterranean world is known as Underhome. Underhome is for the most part a cold place, dank and wet, stifling and oppressive. Its endless labyrinthine passages and caverns are home to sightless worms and slimy lichens; blind, translucent fishes swim in its pools, and darker, more sinister things yet, crawl forth from its cracks and crevices. But not all here is lugubrious. Some of its caverns are vast and wondrous explosions of fairy tale space: glowing, shimmering bubbles buried deep within the gloom of the earth. Underground rivers burst forth and form breathtaking waterfalls as they cascade into


Edmund Dulac

These huge glowing caves are not uninhabited. Many are veritable cities of fey folk, who add their dancing torch light to the refracted coruscating natural lights,

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their high singing and tinkling music to the echoing melody of the cascades. The trolls and elves of these caverns make their homes among the crystalline formations; or in bowers slung beneath the bulbous argent, aubergine, and indigo canopies of the mushroom forests; or in delicately and gothically carved, massive stalactites and stalagmite spires; or in the moist air nests made for them by their giant pet lungfish at the bottoms of Underhome’s deep pools and lakes.

A!Troll!of!Underhome Aspect Virtues Charms

Taboos

A misshapen poet Head 4 / Heart 6 / Hand 3 Makes things of unsurpassed beauty Can sing shapes out of stone Makes new trolls with song Cannot be harmed by anything sharp Lonely Will turn to stone in sunlight

The trolls of these Underhome cities are not like their cousins of the world above. They do not live under bridges, although they build them exceedingly well, just as they make anything with subtle and consummate skill. Their skill in making musical instruments especially is unsurpassed. Dapper and refined in dress and habit, they nevertheless appear misshapen, course and uncouth. Yet they love poetry, especially the long, rambling epics they recite for days on end in gravelly and stentorious tones, and


each troll has a special cave or corridor or hollow particularly suited to his voice and tastes, a personal place where he especially loves to recite his poems and tune his instruments. There are no women among their kind; when the trolls decide they need to add a new member to their race they gather together, carve a troll from a stalagmite, and sing an epic poem to it for seven days.

An!Underhome!Elf Aspect Virtues Charms Taboos

A playful fairy Head 2 / Heart 5 / Hand 6 Casts spells of transformation Works illusion magic Possesses otherworldly beauty Flighty and frivolous Ugly and powerless in sunlight

If the trolls are like grave old grandfathers, ugly and loving, their cousins the elves are like chattering, mirthful children. They prefer songs to epics, short twittering ditties which they can never finish without bursting out in laughter and starting another. Whereas the trolls are kindly and solitary, the elves are always in groups, laughing, teasing, jesting, and dancing. They love mischief, although their pranks are not malicious; lovemaking; drinking mushroom wine; weaving and dancing. They are as careless and casual with their songs as they are with their love and their jokes. Unlike their gruff cousins, they are highly magical, but prone to frivolous illusions and

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transformations — a spell that turns one into a cave fish to experience the cool wriggling of water on one’s scales is held in high esteem, for example; whereas a more practical one would be disdained. There are no male elves; instead, to reproduce they find a beautiful fish or glowworm and transform it into one of their kind. For all their dissimilarities, trolls and elves get along reasonably well, even if the habits of one group are sometimes baffling or annoying to the other.

Arthur Rackham


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The!Clockworks Genius Loci Influence

A mechanical city Servitude, Rote, Licitness

One of the newer Provinces of Faerie, the Clockworks has grown considerably since its first appearance. Some say it began as a toy-maker’s shop. Then again, indisputably the most ancient structure here is the immense brass and stone tower of the central water-clock, lending credence to the legend which claims the Clockworks were founded by a certain particularly clever Mortal who strayed into Faerie after an especially prolific career as an artist and inventor. Still others in Faerie, possessing a more philosophical or poetic bent, believe it to be an expression of Mortals’ growing love and dependence on things mechanical, just as the Gloomwand is borne of Man’s innate wariness of Nature and ancient subjugation to Her. Whatever the truth, the Clockworks is a strange and wondrous place. Ever sprawling and growing, at its heart it resembles a great armillary sphere supported on the aforementioned clock tower, with thousands of convoluted orbital tracks upon which move most of its mechanical denizens. Everywhere the surprisingly melodic sound of machines — some like deep gongs, others like tinkling bells — fills the air.

From William Cunningham, The Cosmographicall Glasse, London 1559

Here are clever and innovative beings, but they tend to use their wits to devise cruel things at worst, or


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elaborate but aimless devices at best. Their love and affinity for all things mechanical is altogether understandable, but the machines they create tend to be singular apparatus which serve no real useful purposes, rather than truly beneficial machines designed to improve life. As a result, technology here is paradoxically both clever and stagnant, brilliant and futile. Nearly all inhabitants of the Clockworks follow an infinitely repeating, predetermined path along their armillary arcs. Some of these paths, for all their predetermination, are quite complex, even convoluted, thanks to the addition and proliferation of epicycles upon epicycles— circular paths whose centers themselves move along circular paths. At their most sophisticated, these paths are so complex as to give the appearance of free will; indeed most Clockworkers would be quite offended at the notion that they lacked self-determination.

Rollabout Aspect A steam juggernaut Virtues Head 2 / Heart 2 / Hand 9 Charms Irresistible momentum once moving Iron carapace Impervious to mental influence Taboos Blind Stubborn Legend This living machine is nothing less than a magical robot, fashioned of iron, with steam pipes and gears


all jutting akimbo. His powerful iron spoked wheels grind anything not flattened by his huge front roller. Yet in this Province can be found a few individuals who are independent of the grand machinery of the Clockworks. These Flywheels, as they are known, are the only truly free agents here. The Shackled (as their bound kin are sometimes referred to by the unrestrained) view them dimly as rogue entities and untrustworthy; to Flywheels the Shackled are helpless cogs in a self perpetuating machine.

Spindlewing Aspect Virtues Charms

A mechanical griffon Head 2 / Heart 4 / Hand 8 Flies with wings of beaten gold feathered His beak can chew through metal Metal skin makes him virtual indestructible Taboos Proud Resents authority Legend Created for the merry-go-round of the Calliope, a massive musical instrument, Spindlewing found himself detached from that apparatus in the course of a mechanical breakdown. Abandoned to his fate, he was repaired and given free will by some renegade Tinkerbots. He now flies throughout the Clockworks, helping liberate others who wish to join the Flywheels. Like the very nature of the Clockworks, the plots, machinations and mores of the Shackled are often convoluted and vain. Politics here hinges on trivial

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notions and, to an outsider, absurd consideration for the least consequential concerns. For example: there are no less than 13 days in a week here, divided into seven months of four weeks each, and each day will proscribe or prohibit certain activities.


Twirling Ballerina bowed and arced her graceful metal arms. “I’m very sorry, but I cannot give you directions to that place,” Her gold wire lashes fluttered before her glassy porcelain eyes with the sound of tiny harpsichords, “as today is Thimbleday, and so I can’t possibly use any words containing the letter between I and K.”

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The!Oasis!of!the!Burning!Sands Genius Loci Influence

A fabulous oasis Ritual, Pleasures, Magical

Far away in the fabled East lies a desert so immense and forbidding that it is simply known as the Burning Sands. At its center is said to lie a fabulous oasis, a magical city almost entirely cut off from the rest of Faerie. The Oasis of the Burning Sands, it is said, can only be reached by desperate beings literally on their last legs. Only those who expend their all in order to attain the Oasis can possibly find it. Which is not to say that all who seek it succeed; only that those who attain the Oasis are invariably at death’s door. Only when the last drop of water is but a distant memory to a parched throat, only when the sun burns even the memory of one’s identity away, only when merely standing is a brutal challenge, only then the Oasis of the Burning Sands might appear. And the dunes around it are littered with the bleached bones of those who strove to find it and failed, in stark contrast to the voluptuous pleasures and comforts to be found within. Of the Oasis of the Burning Sands itself, the poet writes: Full weeks five the oasis lies, Of its walls are Marble made: Those are pearles that pave its weies, Nothing of it that doth fade,


But doth suffer a Wind-change Into something rich & strange Efrit hourly ring its bells, Hark now I heare them, ding-dong, dell —with apologies to William Shakespeare, The Tempest Act I, Scene 2 Its walls are indeed gleaming marble, and circle the city seven times, spiraling ever inward and upward, climbing the seven terraces of the Oasis. Flowering vines and tendrils of jasmine and roses climb its walls and spill over its ramparts, its gardens are abuzz with the heady drone of bees whose combs weep honey, and fountains of wines spill cool and sweet into its pearl and gold and silver streets. Its minarets are covered in glistening jewels, so that even in the heat of the day it seems as if the dew has just kissed them. Each Coil of the wall defines a distinct quarter. A great gate, each one more monstrous than the one before it, stands its the entrance, demarcating the passage from one Coil to the next. The guardians of the Coil Gates are largely ceremonial and are usually not threatening, except when the actions of visitors require a martial or forceful response. The Coil of the Wind is ever awash in the hot airs of the Burning Sands, and home to all manner of birds who have been blown here and survived the great crossing. The Gate of the Wind is also the gate of the

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city itself, and guarded by a pair of mighty unsleeping elephants with tusks covered in gold and armor of bright steel.

Edmund Dulac

Elephants!of!the!Wind!Gate Aspect A behemoth pair Virtues Head 2 / Heart 7 / Hand 8 Charms Trampling Body radiate blistering heat As strong as a giant Taboos Bound to the Smoking Gate Helpless without smoke or shadow Legend An elemental and malignant spirit bound by Anadria, Queen of the Oasis of the Burning Sands, to the Gate of Smoke, Ilibis is an efrit of smoke and shadow. He can only manifest in the presence of one or the other, and prefers both.


H.J. Ford

The Coil of Smoke is filled with the scent of incense and burning herbs. Here the poets and prophets of the Oasis sleep and meditate and dream their foggy dreams. It is said that in these dreams lies safe passage out of the Oasis, without recourse to crossing the Burning Sands. The gate marking the entry to this Coil is hung with hundreds of smoking braziers but seems otherwise deserted. It is, in fact,

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guarded by shifting efrit, a djinn of smoke and shadow.

Ilibis Aspect A smoking djinn Virtues Head 2 / Heart 3 / Hand 9 Charms Nearly invisible in shadow and smoke Exudes roils of choking smoke As strong as a giant Taboos Bound to the Smoking Gate Helpless without smoke or shadow Legend An elemental and malignant spirit bound by Anadria, Queen of the Oasis of the Burning Sands, to the Gate of Smoke, Ilibis is an efrit of smoke and shadow. He can only manifest in the presence of one or the other, and prefers both. The burning airs of the previous Coil blow here, and are only compounded by the myriad small and large fires which constantly burn in the Coil of Fire. From street performers who weave impossible illusions from plumes of colored smoke, to the amazing crackers and gunpowder fireworks of the rocketeers, to the fire-breathing antic of the dragon impersonators, everything and everyone in this Coil are devoted to fire and its many (mostly celebratory) uses. A towering, talking bird of glowering smoke and flame guards this Coil’s gate.


Firebird Aspect A fiery roc Virtues Head 4 / Heart 5 / Hand 8 Charms Flies on burning wings Its claws can snatch up an elephant Airborne missiles burn up in its fiery plumage Taboos Defends the Fire Gate with its life Legend A cousin of the famed, flamed phoenix, the firebird is not, unlike the latter, reborn from its own ashes. On the other hand, it is much larger and hotter than its more illustrious relation (the candle that burns twice as bright... ) The airs of the Coil of Iron are ever filled with the song of steel in all its many voices. From the beating of hot forged metal to the zizzing sigh of supple damask as it meets its mate in a parry, to the scrape of a keen edge on a leather strop, there is the constant sound of steel being worked, honed, or used here. The smiths and swordsmen of the Coil of Iron are legendary throughout Faerie, and many a magic blade in Faerie began here. The gate to this coil is guarded by a hundred and one swordsmen, who at any given time are training or dueling or fighting each other, ever honing their warlike skills.

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The!Iron!Horde Aspect A warrior army Virtues Head 2 / Heart 3 / Hand 10 Charms A hundred keen blades and one When a member is cut down, two rush in to take his place The shield dance renders it impervious to weapons Taboos Bellicose and aggressive Cannot resist a challenge to battle Legend The Hundred and One, as the Iron Horde is sometimes called, is such a disciplined army that it may as well be considered a single being with over a hundred sword arms and shields. Drawn from the ranks of the best swordsmen of the Iron Coil, the Horde is reconstituted every year as new recruits are chosen to replace the fallen in a great tournament. The merchants and money changers of the Oasis of the Burning sands ply their trade and make their homes in the Coil of Gold. Here all is gold, literally and figuratively. Virtually anything can be bought or sold — for a price. The gate here is devoid of guardians, but in its center lies a deep wide well. Any who linger there are tempted to throw themselves in, never to be seen again.

A!Mesmerizing!Well Calamity 9 Penalty Mesmerized / Fainting / Suicidal


Maxfield Parrish

The Coil of Silk is home to the great leafy gardens where myriad silkworms and spiders are raised. Pavilions of silk shelter the farmers of this Coil, who tend their spinning charges tirelessly. Banners and flags of the diaphanous cloth , colored and dyed in every imaginable hue and shade, flutter and fly in the breeze. Its gate is a gonfalon-laden affair, whose fluttering mass is inhabited by a pair of huge silvery spiders the size of camels.

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Giant!Spiders Aspect Virtues Charms

An arachnid pair Head 3 / Heart 3 / Hand 8 Weave tangling webs Climb on walls and ceilings Many-legged attacks Taboos Afraid of fire Soft underbelly Legend Raised and trained from hatchlings to guard the Silk Gate, this loyal pair of spiders were chosen for their particularly large size and ferocity. They always work together, and can be quite clever; often one will lure a foe while the other lies in wait to capture it with blinding quickness. In spite of their oozing mandibles, they are not poisonous, but can suffocate an enemy in their rapidly-spun webs if they so choose. As the marble walls of the Oasis of the Burning Sands wind their way ever inward and ever higher, they form the seventh and final coil, the Coil of Serpents. Snake charmers and dancers inhabit the district, whose buildings, fountains, monuments and streets are redolent with carvings, frescoes, mosaics, and images of snakes, wyrms, and serpents. The Serpent Gate itself is no exception, and if anything is even more elaborately sculpted than the other structures here. When the need arises, the myriad carvings of the gate itself come alive, hissing, entangling and biting. The many sinewy ropes which hang like bead curtains whip into a frenzy, attacking foemen.


Edmund Dulac

Flurry!of!snakes Calamity 11 Penalty Riveting fear / Unconsciousness / Poisoned (Hand drops to 1) and can only be cured by Queen Anadria There is an eighth gate which seals the seventh Coil and controls access to the Oasis’ center. Relatively small and plainly ornamented, it stands as little more than a thickening of the spiraling wall with a doorway. When the brassbound and riveted door is

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open, any can enter freely and unchallenged. But when the door is shut, forcing entry will bring forth Last Gate’s lone and hidden guardian, a fearsome Gorgon.

Aleacta Aspect A fearsome Gorgon Virtues Head 4 / Heart 3 / Hand 9 Charms Has a petrifying gaze Her hair is a nest of vipers Is immune to all poisons Taboos Cannot bear to see her own reflection Will not leave the Last Gate Legend With the body of a beautiful woman, Aleacta is nevertheless a terrifying sight, with a head sprouting poisonous snakes instead of hair and a gaze so horrific it can turn anyone meeting it to stone. Beyond the Last Gate is a vast plaza populated by the Gorgon’s past victims — and there are hundreds. The edge of this vast esplanade abuts the great elevated lagoon which lies at the heart of the city and has as its source the very Oasis itself. Its ever cool waters lave the last winding of the marble walls,


trickling through the cracks and fissures of the ancient palisades into the fountains and basins of the city radiating out from it. At the center of the lagoon lies the floating palace of Queen Anadria, the wise and undisputed ruler of the Oasis.

Queen!Anadria Aspect A wise naga Virtues Head 6 / Heart 13 / Hand 5 Charms Has powerful water magic Swims with lightning speed Impervious to fire and heat Her quick tail is a formidable weapon Defensive scales Rules the Domain of her island palace Taboos Extremely susceptible to poisons Honorable and bound to justice Legend Beautiful and strange, Queen Anadria has the upper body and head of a woman supported on a long, winding serpent’s tail. Like others of her naga race, she embodies the joining of natural forces with human intelligence. While only her floating palace constitutes her Domain, she has a great deal of influence throughout the Province of the Oasis of the Burning Sands.

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The!Ice!Range Genius Loci Influence

A frigid fastness Forbidding, Bleak, Solitary

The frigid peaks and icy spires of the Ice Range constitute a land of perpetual winter, a wonderland of breathtaking beauty and sublime majesty whose soaring, glacial peaks are awash in the ubiquitous yellowing light of a faint and pale sun struggling to shine through a constant flurry of dancing snowflakes and ethereal clouds. This is an inaccessible land of grim beauty and merciless harshness. Few wander here intentionally, and a journeyer in this Province will not uncommonly be met by the sight of past hapless travelers, covered in frost and ice by the side of track, or whose bones are but a gnawed heap in some dire creature’s cave den, or frozen for all time to the side of shear mountain. For all of its severity, the Ice Range is hardly uninhabited. Of course its frost giants are famous, but it also boasts huge winter bears and white crows, rare ice wyrms whose innards smolder with blistering heat, solitary yeti, and terrifying packs of wolves. Deep within its mountains are even said to live a race of sullen ice trolls, ever toiling over stone and ice carvings.


Frost!Giant Aspect A n arctic giant Virtues Head 2 / Heart 3 / Hand 8 Charms Rock-cracking strength Throws boulders and chunks of ice Impervious to cold and cutting weapons Taboos Melts when burned Hostile and territorial Legend Dressed in the skins of winter bears and wielding clubs of stone and ice, frost giants are a primitive and inhospitable lot. Hardy and tough, they could easily overcome opponents and prey by waiting them out and letting the biting cold of the Ice Range do their work for them. Instead, they usually prefer to throw devastating boulders of rock and ice then rush in to wrestle and crush their foes.

Winter!Bear Aspect A snow predator Virtues Head 1 / Heart 5 / Hand 6 Charms Runs and climbs tirelessly Thick coat protects it from weapons and cold Taboos Always hungry, and frenzied at the smell of blood Aggressive and reckless Legend These huge white bears prefer to hunt alone except when mated. They are highly aggressive but guileless, and love best to crush their prey in a great bear hug. Nevertheless their sharp, heavy claws and great speed and strength make them a dangerous foe indeed. They prefer to lair in ice caves, and will bathe in mountain streams just so their coats will ice over and offer them a sort of icy armor, as

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if their hides weren’t thick and tough enough. Their oily pelt gives off a surprisingly strong odor, even in the cold of the Ice Range. The only way to the Ice Range is to stumble upon it from some other wintry or mountainous place. A traveler may be seeking refuge from a snowstorm in a cavern, only to emerge in the Ice Range instead. Or lost while climbing a high mountain pass, an expedition may eventually realize it has descended into the Ice Range instead of their hoped-for valley. Or trapped in a mountain cabin during an avalanche, a wanderer may dig herself out only to surface in this Province. Like an overnight freeze, the Ice Range creeps in, working its way into the marrow of your bones until you are caught, unable to escape. Once in the Ice Range, getting out is arduous indeed. There are no adjacent areas near the Ice Range enjoying more temperate climes; all here is perpetual winter, forever and as far as the eye can see. Only a route to a winter or mountain place external to the Province offers an escape.

Arthur Rackham


Father!Christmas Aspect Patron of gifts Virtues Head 4 / Heart 12 / Hand 2 Charms Makes toys, and lots of them Can be in many places at once Enters the Mortal realm to bring gifts to children Taboos Kind to the good Punishes the wicked (with gifts of coal) Legend Forget all that about flying reindeer and elves. Kris Kringle is a native of the Ice Range, one who knows virtually every way out the frigid Province, both to Faerie and the Mortal realm. He knows the ins and outs of the Ice Range so well, in fact, that he can leave and come back before he left, allowing him to effectively be in many places at once. This also accounts for why his bag of toys and coal seems never-ending, or how he can deliver his goods to millions of Mortal children in a single night. When not making or delivering his toys he tends the Ice Hotel, an inn made by the ice trolls and carved from clear ice, with ice rooms, furnishings, and beds, spread with hundreds of bear and wolf skins. The Ice Hotel is located ina particularly remote region of the Ice Range — Kris Kringle prefers few guests, as toymaking and delivering is time-consuming work, even for someone who can bilocate. Not all the Ice Range is wilderland. There are a few cities and settlements, snowbound places of perpetual winter whose inhabitants have acclimated to the harsh conditions here. The cities tend to resemble lacy snowbound gothic structures; the settlements Lapland villages.

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Domains There are innumerable Domains in Faerie: places that are strongly associated with a particular Faerie being, in fact so much so that the place is virtually an extension of the Domain’s master, or Dominant. Unlike Provinces, which have identities in their own right, Domains depend upon a master for their very existence. In most cases a Dominant has created her Domain from shear force of will; in others the Dominant arose spontaneously from the Domain, as a veritable genius loci. In any event, the two are deeply bound to one another. If the Dominant dies, so too will the Domain perish, and vice-versa. Within his Domain, a Dominant is undisputed lord and ruler, so much so that any Roll 13 made within the Domain uses the sum of all three Virtues (i.e., the character’s Renown). Furthermore, Dominants have at their ready disposal all the resources of a Domain, other than exceptional free-willed residents — those with a Renown at least equal to the Dominant’s. Thus the master of an undersea Domain could summon storms or call upon the fishes and whales to serve as spies or messengers, but might not hold total sway over an ancient kraken living in his realm (although he might still have considerable influence over the sea-monster).


Alphons Mucha

In order to claim a Domain, a Faerie creature must have a Charm naming it as the Dominant of the particular Domain. No Faerie being may have more

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than one Domain. A Dominant is generally free to leave his territory, but while away may not call upon its resources. Furthermore, during the Dominant’s absence the place is vulnerable to usurpation, or worse. A being wishing to wrest control of a Domain away from its mistress may only do so in the Dominant’s absence. The would-be usurper engages in Conflict against the Domain itself, the later using the Dominant’s appropriate Virtue score (not Renown). This struggle for control of the Domain may be played out at virtually any scale, from a grand one with Embellishments narrating the movements of vast armies, or smaller Conflicts portraying subtle and insinuative plots.


Either way, if the attacker wins the Conflict, the returning Dominant will find herself stripped of her Domain (and the Charm bestowing it). Like any Defeat, it can eventually be reversed with the fulfillment of a quest and the accumulation of sufficient Narrative Bonuses. Note that a Domain may exist within a Province just as easily as in the Wilds. Unlike Provinces, Domains do not have a Genius Loci (in fact that role is fulfilled by the Dominant) nor Influences.

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Mortals The Mortal lands (that reality which the Players, not characters, of Seven Leagues inhabit) are mostly beyond the consideration of this game. Seven Leagues takes place entirely within the confines of Faerie, even if some portions of that realm skirt perilously close to the mundane world. Nevertheless, Mortals are the source of Faerie, its engine if you will, and so a few words about the relationship between the fey world and the Mortal one are in order.

Mortal!Cultures At the heart of the Seven Leagues conceit is the notion that the Faerie world is a projection of the collective Mortal consciousness. But whereas Mortals inhabit a world bound by the rules and limitations and structure of time and geography, Faerie is unimpeded by any of these consideration. Time, for example, passes in Faerie for the sake of the narrative, not out of any physical necessity. If, as Aristotle says, (Mortal) time is the measure of motion and motion the measure of time, Faerie time is the measure of story. And some stories are fast-paced, others are slow, and others still are anachronistic. In short, time passes in Faerie when it needs to. Similarly, geography in Faerie is fluid and to a certain extent disjointed. Adjacencies that we take as immutable in our world are just passing fancies in


Faerie; there continents shift about like lazy clouds. In the Faerie world, two creatures with a similar quality — say, being in love — have a deeper affinity than two beings who happen to share the same period of Mortal history or live in the same Mortal country. Put another way, from the perspective of Faerie, if you could peer into the Mortal realm, you would see a patchwork of places and times — cultures if you will. But from that Faerie perspective, feudal Japan is just around the corner from your favorite coffee shop on 5th street; just go sideways through the gate skirting the white townhouse and the agave plants and you’re there. And that proximity is determined not by an accident of history or geography, but by some deeper, more meaningful — and at the same time more trivial — essence. Maybe the coffee shop owner has a favorite kimono she wears around the house in the morning, or the barista whisks the mata widdershins just like a tea master of the 15th century did his green tea. This has the effect of allowing areas of Faerie with origins in different places and times in the Mortal realm to be adjacent to each other. Thus it is not unheard of for Raven to alight on one of Creakbone’s branches.

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Sometimes that boundary gets weakened enough that even an ordinary Mortal might drift into Faerie. Usually those visitations are brief, and more often than not they are accidental. The most common Kissing Point, as the weak points between the two worlds are called, are most often found in dreams. Conveniently, the Mortal awakens and can say to himself, “What a strange and vivid dream I had. Better have that coffee and get to work.” Sometimes Kissing Points arise in special places in the Mortal realm. A dark forest laden with primordial fears; a dank catacomb in the ancient subterranean of an old city; an old henge; a haunted house; a special cave. As uncommon as Kissing Points are, they seem to conform to the following guidelines: Edmund Dulac

Kissing!Points For the most part, the boundary between the Mortal realm — the “real world” — and Faerie is relatively impermeable. For the most part. Then again, some Mortals — children, poets, lovers, the insane, to name a few — will tell you that the world of the make-believe is real. And it is. For them anyway.


◊ Kissing Points allow Mortals into Faerie, but

rarely the other way round; ◊ Mortals who enter Faerie from a Kissing Point generally return to the Mortal realm via the same Kissing Point (i.e., Mortals cannot use Faerie to “teleport” or travel through time); ◊ If a Mortal stays too long in Faerie (longer than say, a Tale), she will eventually be unable to return, for all intents becoming a resident of Faerie, although not necessarily possessing Charms or Taboos.

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Sorcery Some Mortals are not satisfied to dream of Faerie or stumble upon it; instead, they try to engineer breaches in the boundary between the two realms. This can either take the form of an attempt on the sorcerer’s part to enter Faerie, or retrieve some significant item from the fey realm, or even impose some sort of servitude on a fey being. The usual method involves some sort of ritualized magic or sorcery. Generally, Faerie beings who witness such a sorcerous intrusion (or are victims of one) do not look kindly upon the sorcerer, and might seek opportunities to undermine the sorcerer. Sorcery is usually the only way that Faerie beings can enter the Mortal realm. While Faerie beings can function in the Mortal world for a short time, they quickly weaken and fade. In game terms, each day in the Mortal realm costs the Faerie 1 point of Virtue (player’s choice); when any Virtue reaches 0 the


Faerie being cannot perform any Charms; when all are at 0 the being simply ceases to exist. Once returned to Faerie, however, all Virtues are restored to their normal level. In the unlikely even Mortals get entangled in your Tales, here are some sample characters. In most cases, it shouldn’t be necessary to do more than provide a name for a Mortal.

Typical!Mortal Aspect Virtues

A mundane being Head 3 / Heart 3 / Hand 3

Mortal!Sorcerer Aspect A Mortal magician Virtues Head 4 / Heart 2 / Hand 2 Charms Can enter Faerie Can call forth Faerie beings Taboos Each spell costs the loss of something precious Ambitious and greedy

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Troupes character creation? Here are a few helpful observations for Narrators and Players as they create their roles.

Troupe!Background Reading the sample Tales in Part the Third, you’ll see there isn’t much effort in justifying “getting the party together”, mostly because there is a deliberate insouciance about narrative logic, and a greater concern for narrative power. In other words, in a fairy tale setting there usually isn’t a logical rationale of why a certain character is in a given place at a given time, except by birth.

Victor Vasnetsov

A group of Players gathered together to play in a Tale are a Troupe, as in an acting troupe. How should Players go about making their Protagonists? What’s the nature, if any, of their common background or shared history? How could the various Protagonist’s Aspects, Virtues, and Charms be coordinated? What’s an ideal Troupe size for Seven Leagues? How involved should the Narrator get in


It isn’t even necessary that there be rigorous narrative consistency from one Tale to another (“continuity” in editing parlance). True, the rules for Character Growth presuppose that the Player tracks Narrative Bonuses from one Tale to the next, for example, and Curses are carried over from one Tale to another. Nevertheless, atmospherically it’s desirable that there be a loose continuity at best. This will only add to the almost post-structural feel of the genre, where events are sometimes juxtaposed in slightly startling or even illogical ways. In Seven Leagues, getting a Troupe together in a believable way isn’t necessarily on the menu.

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On the other hand, in traditional fairy tales, characters are often initially together for one compelling reason: they are blood relations, usually siblings. There are countless examples, from Tatterhood and her twin sister, to Tom Thumb and his seven siblings, even to Oberon’s children in Roger Zelazny’s fantasy Amber series. So one good place to start if one wants a coherent group might be a Troupe bound by familial bonds (three or five or seven or 13 siblings, for example, each with a vastly different Aspect but common Legendary thread). Not all the characters need be played by the Players; some might be Antagonists played by the Narrator. In addition, it is strongly recommended that Players make up their characters together, as a group. It’s so easy and quick to make up a Seven Leagues character (provided you have a concept), that there’s really no need to make up Protagonists ahead of a game. And the benefit you get from a collaborative group discussion about characters is invaluable. There’s a lot to be said for the synergistic energy of creating characters together.

Protagonist!Mix Protagonists should have a good mix of Charms (and Taboos). A great example is the Chinese folk tale of the five identical brothers: one can swallow the sea, one has a neck like iron, one can stretch his legs to great length, one cannot be harmed by fire, and one can hold his breath indefinitely. When one of them is


forced to steal a pearl from the Emperor’s palace to heal their sick mother, he is condemned to death. Each brother in turn is subjected to a form of execution which he can survive due to his special talent, the Emperor all the while thinking they are but one man. Similarly, in a Troupe it’s good to have a variety of Charms and Taboos which allow different characters to shine at different times. While only a small part of a Tale consists of actual combat, Conflict tends to be a highly dramatic and suspenseful part of play. So it’s important for Players to consider how their character might fare in a Conflict. This is not to say that every character should be designed for combat, or that one couldn’t successfully play a character with no offensive Charms. Consider, too, that some “combats” might be diffused without resort to physical violence; a clever Player will create opportunities to resolve a conflict without fighting, say by preparing a meal that her opponent falls asleep after eating, or playing music so haunting that an aggressor weeps and lets her go free. On the other hand, if all of the Protagonists lack any Conflict-oriented Charms, the Tale might not turn out so well. As always, Charms should make sense for the character’s Aspect, and Players shouldn’t go overboard in creating a mere killing machine.

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Troupe!Size It turns out that Narration (and in particular Conflict) works much better with more Players. Seven Leagues narration tends to be not so lively with only two Players, and often seems a little flat. Four Players, though, works really well, and the more the merrier. Conflict has a very low overhead in terms of game mechanics, but requires creative embellishments to be truly entertaining. As a result, several players can get in on the game without getting bogged down in rolls; secondly, more players tend to fuel each others’ creativity.

What!Role!the!Narrator? The must successful Tales are those which take place in a compelling world that has been created collaboratively. Traditionally, it is primarily the Narrator’s role to create that world. But Seven Leagues also strongly encourages Players to take part in world-building. Protagonists with Domains may have entire regions of Faerie to define and populate with underlings, servants, and uneasy allies. And as characters exercise their Keywords, they may begin to spawn interesting and compelling locales, ones which the narrator may go back to and weave into future Tales. Furthermore, it is the Players’ Protagonists after all who will be living the Narrator’s Tales. If the Players have a yen to explore a contemporary goth world where reality and Faerie lead a blurred coexistence in a reconstructed Berlin,


and the Narrator has designed a series of faithfully Perrault-flavored Tales, the campaign (a series of thematically-linked Tales with recurring characters) may simply not work. It’s clearly important for all involved (Narrator and Players) to have compatible desires and expectations (note not necessarily identical wishes), and to communicate those expectations clearly, in a cooperative spirit. The Narrator must walk a very fine line indeed. On the one hand, she must set a framework for a world which satisfies herself and her Players. She must ensure that there are surprises in that world (else where would the suspense be in playing in it?) while at the same time giving her Players room to contribute in meaningful ways. When it comes to creating Protagonists, the Narrator must once again juggle, serving as the arbiter of reasonable Charms given a character’s Aspect, while at the same time giving the Player plenty of room to exercise creativity. The Narrator is not a judge or referee who passes sentence or applies rules. Rather, she is like an editor, or the director of a stage production, or the conductor of an orchestra. Ultimately, the Narrator is there to help guide the story, but most importantly to encourage the best play from the Players. Keep that in mind, and everyone will enjoy the game.

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Antagonists The term “Antagonist” in Seven Leagues does not necessarily imply that the character is at odds with the Player characters; Antagonists are simply all those roles (friend, foe, or disinterested) played by the Narrator. Several have already been presented throughout the description of Provinces above; here are a few more to serve as additional examples. Note that the following Antagonists do not necessarily follow the rules for initial Protagonist creation in terms of Virtue limits or number of Charms and Taboos; they have simply been around for a long time, and have gained (and lost) Charms and Taboos over their many years in Faerie. Furthermore, in some cases the characters’ Legends are fully presented; in others, the more one-dimensional nature of the Antagonist requires but a sketch.

Baba!Yaga

Aspect The Russian witch Virtues Head 5 / Heart 4 / Hand 8 Charms Flies in a mortar and pestle Hides her trail with a birch broom Has iron claws Her dancing hut on chicken legs is ringed by a bone fence with fiery skulls Casts witch spells Taboos Eats children Has a fearsome reputation Is hideously ugly Must keep her word once given


Ivan Bilibin

Legend The old crone of Russian fairy tales, Baba Yaga is sometimes described as an ogre, sometimes a witch, often both. Her iron claws and tusk-like lower teeth are a dead giveaway to her gruesome and magical nature. Not beyond

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eating a child or two, she also sometimes gives counsel to worthy heroes and follows her own peculiar honor code. Her dancing hut only sits still and allows itself to be entered when the proper magic phrase is spoken; the ring of skull-topped fence-stakes surrounding it shed light when commanded and warn her of intruders. She sweeps the ground behind her passage with a silver birch broom to hide any evidence of her passing. Her spells, while fearsome, are what one would expect from a fairy-witch, consisting of enchanting items, conjuring disembodied hands, and summoning her three faithful servants, the Red, White, and Black Horsemen (dawn, day, and night, through which she can change the time of day at will).

Circe Aspect An divine enchantress Virtues Head 5 / Heart 5 / Hand 4 Charms Can cast enchantments with her magic wand Knows the lore of poisons and potions Beautiful and beguiling Powers of spiritual purification Taboos Lonely Prone to mischief Legend Daughter of the sun and a demigoddess in her own right, Circe lives alone with her handmaidens on the remote island of Aeaea. Bored and restless, she amuses herself by turning wandering sailors to animals. She purified the Argonauts after their murder of Apsyrtus, Medea’s younger brother.


The!Green!Knight Aspect A magical knight Virtues Head 3 / Heart 5 / Hand 6 Charms Cannot be killed by decapitation Wields decapitating axe Magical armor Knows just how to test a knight Taboos Green (sometimes) Legend This tall medieval lord exists to test the courage and chivalry of knights, most famously Sir Gawain of the Round Table. His challenge in that case consisted of inviting Gawain to decapitate him. When in spite of the loss of his head the Green Knight did not die, he demanded that Gawain come to his lands a year later so that the favor could be returned. On his arrival, Gawain was tempted with the Green Knight’s wife, but ultimately passed that test as well.

Golem Aspect An animate statue Virtues Head 0 / Heart 1 / Hand 8 Charms Relentless fists can batter down walls Taboos Dies if forehead rune erased Aches to be human Legend The golem is a mindless servant made of animated clay sculpted in a humanoid form. It is the expression of the supernatural energies released by sorcerers, Mortal or Fay, who base their practice of magic on the deeper meaning of words: “A Golem must be made of the sticky clay from the bank of the river. Make the

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face, hands and feet out of clay. Roll it over on its back. Walk around the form of clay from right to left seven times, shouting, ‘Shanti, Shanti, Dahat, Dahat!’ ” On the golem’s forehead is inscribed the rune for truth, Emet. By erasing the first syllable, the rune becomes Met, or death, and the golem is destroyed.

Loup-garou Aspect A classic werewolf Virtues Head 3 / Heart 3 / Hand 7 Charms Turns into an aggressive wolf Can only be harmed by silver Taboos Turns to wolf only on nights of full moon Doesn’t remember alternate state Legend Whether werewolves become so due to an inherited curse or as the result of being bitten by another werewolf, the result is the same. Werewolves are miserable creatures who are often unaware of their own affliction (or in deep denial). They have a tendency to destroy those they love. In some cases even silver will not harm them unless wielded by someone whom the werewolf holds dear.

Mermaid

Movie poster from “The Golem” (1920), Artist Unknown


Aspect A classic mermaid Virtues Head 4 / Heart 5 / Hand 3 Charms Fast swimmer Amphibian Taboos No legs, just a fish tail Legend These reclusive creatures of the deeps are curious innocents who sometimes get caught up in Mortal nets or worse yet the complications of the Mortal realm. They love their aquatic home and all its beauty, but have a strange attraction for the Mortal world. Extremely fast and strong swimmers, they love to race their dolphin friends.

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son Telemachus in front of the plow, Odysseus swerved and missed the child, thus proving his sanity. Later, in Troy, it was Odysseus who devised the ruse of the wooden horse. After the ten year war, he had many adventures, and was delayed from returning home when he incurred the wrath of Poseidon by blinding his son, Polyphemus the Cyclops. Finally returning to Ithaka after wandering another ten years at sea, he discovered his palace was overrun with insolent suitors, eating him out of house and home and attempting to marry his faithful wife, Penelope. With the help of his now-grown son Telemachus and Athene, he slew the suitors and restored peace to his island kingdom.

Edmund Dulac

Odysseus!of!Ithaka Aspect A wandering sailor Virtues Head 6 / Heart 5 / Hand 6 Charms Favored by Athene Clever and sneaky Taboos Cursed by Poseidon Legend The wiliest of the Greeks to go to war against Ilium (Troy), Odysseus first tried to get out of his obligation by feigning madness, plowing a field with an ox and a horse hitched together. When Palamedes placed Odysseus’ infant


Artist unknown

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The!Marquis!of!Carabas Aspect A magical ogre Virtues Head 3 / Heart 2 / Hand 6 Charms Changes to animal forms Strikes fear in the Hearts of people Lord of his Domain Taboos Is vain, cocksure and arrogant Overconfident Legend This fellow has established himself as a local lord in your typical Faerie kingdom. Capable of taking on the form of any animal from as as small as a mouse to as large as an elephant, he holds sway over the peasant folk by terrorizing them, often roaming his lands as a fearsome lion. His great weakness is his vanity and overconfidence in his own power. He must revert to human(oid) form between transformations, although these take but the blink of an eye.

Morpheus Aspect God of Dreams Virtues Head 7 / Heart 11 / Hand 0 Charms Casts spells drawn from or occurring within people’s dreams Can send any dream to or visit any sleeper Is omnipotent in his kingdom (the land of dream) Can change to any living shape Taboos Cannot directly physically affect another Legend The God of Dreams is one of the most powerful gods of Faerie, for all creatures there dream, from the lowliest scullery maid to the other gods themselves, and Morpheus knows them all. Indeed, to one point of view, Faerie itself is but the collective dream of Mortals.


Charles Robinson

Yet for that, Morpheus does not himself have physical form, but exists entirely within the dreams of others. He is both inside of dream and the act of dreaming itself. Consequently, his magics are potent and effective only as dreams can be. He can call forth any object or place he requires from the myriad dreams of Faerie and the Mortal realm alike. And even if his spells only occur within the dreamer’s dream, well, everyone has to sleep sometime.

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!

Taboos Cannot leave their rocky island Legend The sirens of mythology are strange creatures, part fish, part woman, with beautiful and irresistibly alluring voices. Since they only inhabit rocky islands, their song has the effect of luring sailors to a shipwrecked doom as they steer their vessels towards the unearthly song. Other accounts depict them as hideously ugly fish-women, who nevertheless can draw hapless sailors to them in spite of their appearance.

Artist Unknown

The!Pied!Piper!of!Hameln Aspect A seductive piper Virtues Head 4 / Heart 6 / Hand 3 Charms His piping controls rodents and children Can open Kissing Points between the Mortal realm and his Domain Rules an underworld candyland Taboos Only helps for payment Honors his agreements, and expects the same Legend Famous for his ridding a Mortal town of its rats and mice and then its children, the Pied Piper is an enigmatic figure at best. Closely associated with plagues and calamities, he never has said what he did with the 130 Mortal children he abducted...

Siren Aspect An alluring creature Virtues Head 3 / Heart 4 / Hand 2 Charms Irresistibly alluring song Unearthly beauty (alternately, hideously ugly)


Arthur Rackham

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Domenichino

Unicorn Aspect A heraldic beast Virtues Head 4 / Heart 7 / Hand 4 Charms May grant one wish May only be approached by a pure maiden Anyone killing it is cursed Taboos Shy and reclusive Can’t resist a pure maiden Legend These reclusive beasts are rare even in Faerie, preferring to live deep in remote forests. Mortal hunters have on occasion claimed to have lured one by using a maiden pure of heart as bait. Their horn is said to possess magical properties, and it is coveted by alchemists (both Mortal and Faerie). But slaying one of these creatures is said to bring a terrible curse. A unicorn may grant a wish to a worthy supplicant, a boon far more valuable than its horn, but even rarer.


Aubrey Beardsley

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Vampire Aspect A bloodsucking fiend Virtues Head 6 / Heart 3 / Hand 7 Charms Assumes bat or wolf form Turns to mist Hypnotizes others with his gaze Can only be killed with a wooden stake through heart Taboos Craves human blood Hates mirrors, crosses, garlic, wild roses Is obsessive compulsive Cannot enter a home without invitation Sleeps by day Burns in sunlight Detected by domesticated animals


Legend A fiend of the night, the vampires of remote and inhospitable mountain lands are well known, and feared for good reason. The living become vampires when killed by one, or as a result of an ancient curse, or of the commission of an unspeakably evil act in life. The vampire exists only to feed, and will use all its powers to fulfill its cravings, striking from the shadows of the night. While possessed of the strength of twenty men, the vampire prefers attacking by stealth, or seduction. In some parts of Faerie, vampires may have different Charms and Taboos. Some only attack former family members; others can be killed not by a wooden stake but being buried under a cairn; some are invisible — to name but a few variations.

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Part!the!Third

Tales We now turn our attention to Tales themselves. What kinds of adventures do Seven Leagues characters have? What motivates them? Characters grow when they gain Narrative Bonuses and find ways consistent with their Aspects to spend them; they are therefore moved to fulfill their Aspect. Tales should be written to provide characters opportunities to exercise those Aspects, by having built-in mechanisms for quests, obligations, and a moral dimension. All play a part in motivating characters to act and interact with their world. Rather than provide an academic analysis of classic fairy tale structure — Vladimir Propp for example already does so somewhat mechanically — here are three Tales to serve as examples and beginning adventures. Hopefully they have a sufficient measure of wit, humor, surrealism, wonder, and adventure to lead to enjoyable play and serve as inspiration.

Edmund Dulac

“The Emperor’s Painting”, inspired by Marguerite Yourcenar’s short story, Comment Wang Fô fut sauvé (How Wang Fo Was Saved) revolves around a dreaming Mortal and a quest to find a particular shade of green. “You Only Live (Happily Ever After) Twice” is a Tale of Faerie political intrigues, best solved by following that old dictum: cherchez la femme. In “The Ass’ Skin”, a talking pelt leads the Protagonists across Faerie to restore a lost child to her rightful place.


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The!Emperor’s!Painting Once!upon!a!time!.!.!. ... the Protagonists found themselves walking along the banks of a cool clear stream. Perhaps they were there on their way to visit an ally. Or they had been waiting at this very spot to meet someone (a friend? an enemy? a paramour?) who had never arrived. Or they were coming to fish. The reason is not terribly important.

But about half a bow shot away stood an old man, ankle-deep in the cold rushing waters of the stream. He was nearly bald, and it is hard to say whether it was his wisp of a white beard or his few pate-hairs that were thinner. His loose, worn, black silken trousers were hiked up to stay dry, and his flapping silk jacket was threadbare and open, its multicolored stained sleeves bunched up at his crooked elbows. His feet were in a wide stance, and he was bent over the water as if peering intently into it — except his eyes were closed. Every few moments he darted one hand or another or both into the stream, as if trying to catch a fish. When the Protagonists approached, they saw that indeed the old man was trying to catch some fish — small green trout in fact — but having a hard time of it. And judging from his closed eyes; slow, shallow, regular breathing; and incoherent muttering, he was asleep. If they made a successful Head Roll 13, the Protagonists recognized old Wang Fo, a renown Mortal painter so famous his canvases were known in Faerie. But what was the somnambulant artist doing here?

Edmund Dulac


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“For seven years now I have been working night and day in my studio on my crowning achievement, a vast and intricate canvas. For months I have been looking for the perfect shade of green, only to be frustrated. “Then I visited the oracle of Shinxi, who told me that I would find my green in a dream, in the palace of the Jade Emperor. So here I am, asleep, dreaming. Please do not wake me. These little fish are close to the green I seek, yet still off the mark. Disappointing. Do you know where lies the Jade Emperor’s palace?” Even with a Head Roll 13 the Protagonists had heard of the Jade Emperor, a famous art collector, but none knew where his palace lay. Yet nearby was the Domain of Pwyll Pen Annwfn (pronounced Powell Pen Annofn), a disembodied giant’s head at the the top of a hill, known for his lore and wisdom. Surely he would know where to find the Jade Emperor’s palace. Note. If any of the Protagonists have clairvoyant Charms or some other ability which would justify knowledge of the location of the Jade Emperor’s palace, reaching it involves passing through the Domain of Pwyll Pen Annwfn. Unfortunately, the only trail leading to Pwyll Pen Annwfn was a narrow, rocky defile, and there at its the mouth one of the many trolls plaguing Faerie had


taken up residence. Moggg, as he was known, had not yet completed his indispensable bridge when the Protagonists approached, although it was well under way to completion.

Moggg Aspect A bridge troll Virtues Head 2 / Heart 3 / Hand 7 Charms Has huge, horned fists Is strong enough to pull apart boulders Curses those who don’t pay the toll Taboos Will not let others pass without their paying a toll, however small Bad disposition Legend Moggg is your typical troll: lurking under bridges, exacting tolls, threatening passersby, cursing those who don’t pay his toll, and generally being unpleasant. Recently he was evicted from his bridge by a gang of larger trolls, in defiance of custom, and so has found a spot at the base of the hill of Pwyll Pen Annwfn to build a new one. Moggg’s lair was a jumble of roughhewn logs and split boulders, the foundations and beginning piers of his bridge. The construction underway made excellent improvised weapons for the troll. There were a couple of opportunities for the Protagonists to get past the troll. By force, of course, but also by guile. Since Moggg was still building his bridge and it was as-yet incomplete, we was liable to be persuaded that a toll was not yet in order. Of course,

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any Conflict based on persuasion required the troll to Roll 13 using his Head, not Hand, score. Assuming the Protagonists managed to get past Moggg, it was a steep climb up the mountainside to Pwyll Pen Annwfn’s hilltop. There, atop the bare rounded peak of the hill, stood a huge stone head, like a decapitated giant’s, it’s open eyes gazing intently into the distance.

Pwyll!Pen!Annwfn Aspect An oracular head Virtues Head 7 / Heart 3 / Hand 0 Charms Is clairvoyant Can see the future Taboos Just a giant disembodied head Can only speak once a day Must speak the truth Legend A great oracle regarded in high esteem throughout Faerie, Pwyll Pen Annwfn is a mysterious and taciturn figure at best. It is unknown whether he once had a body, or has always been a disembodied head. Pwyll Pen Annwfn could only speak once per day, and then only if directly addressed and asked a question. When the Protagonists got round to asking him where the Jade Emperor’s palace might lie — whether in their first day or after several — he directed them, in best oracular fashion: From the high sighted hill To Ice Dagger Chasm Green will be found beyond The blistering phantasm

Arthur Rackham


Ice Dagger Chasm was a famous landmark, one readily known to any Faerie being. Getting there, however, wasn’t always easy. It seemed there was some disagreement about whether it lay in one direction or another. Ultimately the rede itself showed the way: the Protagonists were to have

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followed Pwyll Pen Annwfn’s gaze, “from the high sighted hill”. If the Protagonists lingered too long with Pwyll Pen Annwfn, they would have found Moggg and a completed bridge on their way back down the hill, if he wasn’t Defeated earlier.

the grasses grew as tall as bamboo and as green as jade, the Protagonists found themselves surrounded by green-clad soldiers.

After a short journey or a long one, the Protagonists traveled through forests, then wind-swept plains that in turn became icy plateaus, finally climbing onto the cliffs overlooking of Ice Dagger Chasm. Ice Dagger was a huge, broad cleft in the icy earth. Going around it would take ages and furthermore might expose the Protagonists to greater perils yet unknown. Looking down, they could see a narrow bridge crossing the glacial canyon. They found the climb down the steep sides and across the bridge perilous. The blistering winds plucked at them; the climb itself was treacherous. Even fliers would have found flying across too difficult due to the arctic gales that raged in and above the chasm.

A!perilous!climb Calamity Penalty

7 Exposure / Frostbitten extremities and loss of fingers, toes, or nose / Fall into the chasm, presumably lost forever.

Ivan Bilibin

Beyond, the lands gradually grew more temperate, frozen steppes becoming windy grasslands. Where


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Jade!Soldiers Aspect A warrior band Virtues Head 2 / Heart 3 / Hand 4 Charms Can run and track great distances Shower down a rain of arrows Taboos Blindly obedient to the Jade Emperor It became clear from their talk that the Jade Soldiers recognized Wang Fo, and that their master, the Jade Emperor, was an avid art collector and in fact was anxious to meet the old painter. Indeed, this group of soldiers were the vanguard of the Emperor’s army, and indeed the Protagonists had arrived at the borders of the Jade Empire. The soldiers hurriedly escorted the Protagonists and their painterly charge to the court of the Jade Emperor himself, and all were admitted into his astounding throne room. Everywhere their eyes roved they alighted upon some surface of a marvelous green hue. The myriad columns in the audience chamber were massive affairs each carved from a single piece of jade, big around enough to require seven men holding hands to encircle them. At the columns center’s the green was nearly black, but at their edges the jade nearly glowed with the backlighting. Malachite tesserae were laid in the floors in marvelous and dazzling patterns, while everywhere verdigris copper lamps, chains, vessels, braziers and bosses festooned the


hall, while green-dyed silk banners hung between the columns, as green torch- and firelight flickered everywhere. The Jade Emperor himself sat on massive but crudely carved three-legged wooden stool atop a dais, its seat a mossy mound. He was surprisingly young, and unexpectedly dressed all in robes so dark a green that they seemed black, from his severe black cap to his silken robes of green-black dragons embroidered on midnight green cloth. All about him stood his courtiers and soldiers. He raised a hand severely and spoke:

Jade!Emperor Aspect A green tyrant Virtues Head 4 / Heart 2 / Hand 5 Charms Cannot be harmed by anyone standing on or wearing green Rules over the Domain of the Jade Empire Ever protected by his Jade Army bodyguard Taboos Hates Wang Fo Arrogant and haughty “Wang Fo, long have I awaited the day when you might cross the boundaries of my kingdom, and here my fervent hope has come true, just as my dreams promised. Behold those of your paintings I and my ancestors have collected!”

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And as he spoke, courtiers brought forth breathtaking paintings and arrayed them in the thrown room. Each one was so vivid, so lifelike, that they seemed more like windows onto other worlds than mere artwork. One was a simple cloudscape, yet gazing upon it one could almost smell the impending rain and see the clouds shift and move. Another was a scene of courtesan life, and the curve of the neck of the woman depicted therein were alone enough to quicken the pulse. A third was hunting scene, and one could almost hear the baying hounds and feel the wind from the beating wings of the falcon. A fourth scene was of a tiny mountain cottage dwarfed by the crushing peak which loomed above it, and one shivered to think of the icy alpine gales which raced and plucked down its towering slopes. Yet a fifth was an incomplete seascape, yet even in its unfinished state one grew seasick at the prospect of the tossing waves. And so on — thirteen scrolls and canvases all told were there. The Jade Emperor continued: “When I was a child and heir to the throne upon which I now sit, I was left alone and isolated from playmates, as it was deemed unsuitable for a child to play with those he would someday rule with the finality of death. My only companions then were your works, old Wang Fo, and they were indeed my constant companions, showing me scenes as they did of the Jade Empire I would someday rule.


“When I ascended to the throne my first imperial act was to tour my lands, so that I could see in person the regions of my empire which your paintings had promised me. Oh bitter travels! “For next to your paintings I found the clouds of the Jade Lands heavy and lifeless; its women not nearly as beautiful as your courtesans; its hunts dull and lifeless; its mountains ordinary and their peaks miserly, its oceans and seas mere stagnant lakes and ponds. My tour of my kingdom left me cheated and disappointed, robbed in one stroke of both my childhood and my crown. “And now you are here, old Wang Fo, in my grasp at last. For your theft and lies you will be put to death. But before you die you shall suffer. And before you suffer, you will be made to finish this last painting of yours. That done, I will have your eyes burned out so that you shall no longer see the secret and invisible world which you have painted. Then I shall have your hands cut off so that not even from memory could you paint. Then, and only then, shall your head and body be parted.” And as the Emperor spoke, his executioner, a menacing carnifex with a terrifying and ponderous axe strode forward. Meanwhile, paints and brushes were laid by servitors before the unfinished seascape.

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Wang Fo sighed at the sight of his old painting, as an old man reunited with an ancient mistress. “There you are,” he murmured. “I had thought you lost in that fire so long ago.”

waves heaved and the wind whipped. Could it be that seagulls cried above the din of battle in the Emperor’s throne room? Was there a faint scent of sea air?

Jade!Carnifex

And indeed, as the old master painted, water began to seep into the room. At first the Jade Soldiers’ sandaled feet slapped the wet malachite floor and a few of them slipped and fell. Then the water lapped at their ankles and swelled to their knees. The carnifex kept his axe over his head, panicked lest his precious weapon rust. The Jade Emperor stood on his throne stool, his robes gathered about him, shouting at Wang Fo to stop.

Aspect A green executioner Virtues Head 2 / Heart 3 / Hand 9 Charms Wields a sharp executioner’s axe First blow struck in the execution of his office will not miss Taboos Will only execute those sentenced by the Jade Emperor If any of the Protagonists came to Wang Fo’s aid (as surely they did!), the Jade Carnifex cut off the first defender’s head (this happened automatically, irrespective of any die rolls, 13 or otherwise). The Jade Soldiers joined the fray, engaging the surviving Protagonists in a confusing mêlée. There would have been charges and counterattacks, more soldiers pouring forth for the palace courtyards and grand staircases, fighters weaving in and among the myriad jade columns. All the while the Emperor, glowering, kept to his throne and surrounded himself with defenders and trusted to his malachite floor to make him invincible. Meanwhile, old Wang Fo painted furiously on his seascape, brush and paint flying onto the huge unfinished, painted scroll like acrobats. And as Wang Fo painted, the seascape seemed to come to life. The


But the master kept painting. In his canvas a daub of paint became speck, then a growing dot. Soon it clearly became a boat or a ship, and a fastapproaching one at that. (If any of the Protagonists had an association with the sea, it was a boat out of their Legend. Otherwise it was a small simple fishing boat). Standing in its prow was the deceased Protagonists, the one who had first come to Wang Fo’s aid. “Come aboard quickly!” the character cried from the ship. The Jade soldiers and their master floundered in bafflement as the hall flooded and Wang Fo and his friends clambered aboard, sailing away to safety. Where they disembarked was a question for another Tale.

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And what of the Jade Emperor and his executioner, soldiers and courtiers? Wang Fo smiled gently. “They’ll be all right. Once their clothes dry out.”

Charles Robinson


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You!Only!Live!(Happily!Ever!After)!Twice Daemons!are!Forever Originally a scenario for Contes de Fées by Antoine Drouart and played at the 3rd Convention of Amateur Role Playing Games (Fontenay sous Bois, France, May 2003), this adventure was translated into English and converted to a Tale for Seven Leagues by Thomas Laborey. Both Antoine and Thomas are with Imaginez.net; be sure and look up Contes de Fées and other innovative I-net games, and the original Contes de Fées version of this Tale: http://www.imaginez.net In accordance with the theme of the Convention, this Tale strives to emulate the feel of the popular James Bond movies (if only to demonstrate the versatility of the fairy tale genre…).

Once!upon!a!time!.!.!. On the road one day, the Protagonists spotted a great commotion and ample clouds of dust from a distance. It looked like there was an army on the march. Soon, the vanguard reached the Protagonists, as the landscape was flat and offered precious little by way of hiding places. The scouts were things from a Brueghel painting: malformed, feral humanoids in late medieval Reiter armor wielding wicked-looking saw blades and riding grotesque ostrich-beasts. Strangely enough, they did not assault the


Protagonists but kindly requested their attendance at an audience with their revered leader, Hans Trapp, King of Bogey-Men, “where his Feet are set, only fungi beget”. This fellow was infamous throughout Faerie as a bloodthirsty warlord leading savage, ruthless raids for the thrill of it. Sheer force of numbers being not on their side, the Protagonists would have been wise to boldly comply…

Typical!Bogey-Man

Aspect A Bogey-Man footsoldier Virtues Head 2 / Heart 2 / Hand 4 Charms Stares disquietingly Rides a fierce kicking beast Wields horrid weapons Taboos Unwashed Terrible manners The Protagonists’ surprise should have grown all the more as Hans Trapp “of the ferociously foul Feet” appeared impeccably courteous and smooth-spoken, almost shy. He claimed to be “on a tour of the Provinces, to present his humble regards to other, more exalted leaders of Domains, with a select few of his most trusted praetorians.” The Protagonists couldn’t help noticing that these “precious few” numbered in the thousands and looked quite nonplussed at their leader’s attitude. While their standards depicted scenes of senseless butchering,

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Hans Trapp “whose Toes challenge the winds” entertained his guests with sweetmeats and syrups, jams and scones, like an old, dear fool.

Hieronymous Bosch


Hans!Trapp Aspect King of Bogey-Men Virtues Head 5 / Heart 2 / Hand 7 Charms Lead ruthlessly Fight savagely Eat large things whole Taboos Harmless as a child (under the Weaving WitchWoman’s spell) Foul-smelling feet Always hungry When His Royal Highness Hans Trapp “whose Feet perfumed the Swamp of Perpetual Pestilence” suggested a nice, quiet game of croquet, it seemed to be the last straw for the most highly decorated officer of his retinue. This later sneaked close to the fiercestlooking Protagonist and introduced himself as Übersturmbahnfuhrer Nicholas Velu, Senior Officer of the Bogey-Man Royal Guard, and requested a confidential conversation. According to him, it would appear that His Royal Highness “may his nauseating Steps lead him to further slaughter” was under a spell, as he had lost any attraction to war, death and pillage, spending his time in sissy things such as courteous small-talk with the most cowardly, effeminate persons (begging your pardon) while his faithful people pined away for lack of bloodshed. Indeed, any Protagonist successfully making a Head Roll 13 noticed a grey silk ribbon knotted around the King’s wrist, somewhat incongruous amongst his black leathers, white bone jewels and crimson velvet.

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Nicholas!Velu

Aspect A bloodthirsty captain Virtues Head 6 / Heart 2 / Hand 5 Charms Terrifies children Be one with shadows Grow in proportion to the fear he inspires Taboos Eats children Bloodlust Nicholas Velu cravenly begged the Protagonists to help the Bogey folk. He tells them that “this Woman” bewitched their beloved King “whose Toes’ fragrances redden the sun” with her gift and that the ribbon had to be cut for him to become again a wild, pitiless fighter. No Bogey-Man had been able to lift the curse, as healing and blessing was hardly their forte: try as they might, they couldn’t tear, cut or slash the ribbon, so Nicholas was willing to give anything for things to change (so he could at last indulge his Taboo). Why in the Worlds would the Protagonists want to unleash again such a monstrous being in Faerie? Nicholas had to have promised them lavish gifts indeed… During this conversation, Bogey-Men started closing in on Nicholas Velu and the Protagonist and interfering: obviously they subscribed to his opinion. Further questioning regarding “the Woman” enabled the Protagonists to learn that a feminine figure all clad in grey silky threads recently came to the BogeyBand and offered the ribbon to their King “whose Soles burn into the soil”; he was never the same


since. It was customary that spells contained in gifts could only be broken by returning the gift to the giver, or by some means pertinent to the nature of the gift itself (in this case, the ribbon could only be cut with the Weaving Witch-Woman’s own silver scissors). The most appropriate course of action, provided the Protagonists agreed to some form of bargain with the Bogey-Men, was thus to find this grey-clad Woman. All this time, Hans Trapp played croquet, alone or with some obliging Protagonists, oblivious to his surroundings.

The!Wyrd!Weavers

Aspect A spinster trio Virtues Head 5 / Heart 5 / Hand 5 Charms They know the future Spin flawlessly Kill by cutting a thread Mesmerize with singsongs Cannot be surprised Taboos Speak in riddles But where to look? At that precise moment, King Hans Trapp “whose Feet reek like the tombs of kings” complained that his Most High Royal Socks have holes again (due to the corrosive exhalations of his feet) and that the Wyrd Weavers should be summoned at once. Indeed, these three hags were known for their scrying powers and could well help with locating the Woman (do not use this deus ex machina if one or more Protagonists are themselves clairvoyant).

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The!Bailey!of!Magpies The Bailey of Magpies was a dark stone castle nestled atop a steep hillock. A handful of shabby buildings pockmarked the slopes of the hill. The hamlet looked lively enough, with bustling trade and crafts. This was but a charade though, with smuggling standing in for trade, swindlers for merchants, cutthroats for passersby and thugs for burghers. The place was a notorious meeting-point for shady individuals plotting nefarious activities and goons for hire looking for easy money with no questions asked. The Protagonists were harassed by peddlers of exotic substances, beggars, whores, advertisers for gambling dens (rigged) and even more dubious pleasures. They were be followed by tough-looking goons, which lead to pursuits in crowded streets with fruit stalls waiting to be toppled.

Arthur Rackham

According to their cryptic hints (presumably let go at a terrible price), the Woman was in utter darkness, dark as the feathers of a magpie, a magpie flying above a Bailey, a Bailey commanding a hamlet where the Black Lady ruled. Nicholas Velu then remembered the notorious Bailey of Magpies, a Domain of ill repute to say the least.


A Protagonist who successfully made a Heart Roll 13 felt a diffuse threat hanging in the air, alongside the nagging certainty of being watched. Indeed, the only birds in the hamlet were magpies (neither ravens, nor pigeons, nor sparrows were to be found) whose eyes followed every movement from the roofs. Their ceaseless chatter sounded like they were deprecatingly commenting on what they saw. The Protagonists must have watched their shiny belongings at all times, or the magpies would have stolen them!

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The!Spying!Magpies

Aspect A reaving flock Virtues Head 5 / Heart 2 / Hand 3 Charms See everywhere Can fly Attack en masse Taboos Can’t resist shiny baubles Obey the Dark Lady’s whims Due to this efficient intelligence network, the Dark Lady, liege of this Domain, kept an eye on all the goings-on; she was notified at once of the coming of such strangers as the Protagonists. Depending on their looks and behavior (whether trying to blend in or not etc.), she might have mistaken them for disenfranchised mercenaries, smugglers looking to fence some loot or spies from foreign Provinces: she was especially wary of the latter in those days. Inquisitive or tactless Protagonists quickly aroused her suspicions. Those she would invite to the Bailey for a friendly chat — i.e., a thorough, if wellmannered, questioning. The Bailey didn’t lack amenities in spite of being small. Before meeting the Lady, the Protagonists were treated to luscious gardens with pools and assorted nymphs, sporting grounds where “friendly” competitions were held, gambling tables, and so on.


Victor Vasnetsov

The Dark Lady then had supper with them. All the dishes were surprising and somewhat challenging: unusual parts of strange animals, non-food substances, very intoxicating liquors, recreational drugs… She claimed curiosity about the world at large, what with her Domain being so isolated and so on. In fact, she aimed at pumping the Protagonists for information about what political leaders they might have known, and why they were there. Of

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course, she denied knowledge of any “grey Woman”. She became flirtatious with the handsomest Protagonist, and tried to secure a private interview, in order to get even more information and weaken group loyalty, all the while indulging her favorite Taboo.

The!Dark!Lady

Aspect A femme fatale Virtues Head 7 / Heart 5 / Hand 3 Charms Rules over her Domain Can fly by turning her arms to magpie wings Can exude darkness Seduces irresistibly Taboos Amorous Cowardly Under the Weaving Witch-Woman’s spell She only, at first, misled the Protagonists, sending them on wild goose chases. As soon as she suspected them or if they seemed to have found a lead, she had them captured, explained her master plan to them, then attempted to dispose of them thanks to Koutsodaimonas, a bloodthirsty mercenary in her service. The fight against Koutsodaimonas led to an escape through the dungeons, where the Protagonists met interesting individuals.

Koutsodaimonas Aspect Virtues


A hulking brute Head 3 / Heart 3 / Hand 9

Charms Is monstrously strong Has a horn on his furry forehead Never tires Can mate with anything Taboos Lecherous Berserk The Dark Lady’s grand plan was fiendish. She had originally hired the Weaving Witch-Woman to bewitch important figures such as leaders of Domains or Provinces. She planned thereby to form a confederacy of Domains, building the strongest army ever seen in Faerie. When she was satisfied that no force could oppose her, she would conquer every acre of Faerie until she was High Queen of all Faerie! It was a shame that the Weaving WitchWoman deemed it such a cunning plan that she decided to hijack it. Since then the Dark Lady wore a grey silk ribbon around her neck, hidden beneath a velvet collar-piece…

The!Weaving!Witch-Woman

Aspect A hexing weaver Virtues Head 4 / Heart 6 / Hand 3 Charms Can bend people to her will by tying grey silk ribbons to them Can turn to silk Her silver scissors will cut anything Can entangle people with threads from her dress Taboos Double-crossing Cannot end her own spells

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The Weaving Witch-Woman hid in the Bailey’s dungeons, from whence she pulled the strings on the Dark Lady who appeared to all as the mastermind of the whole affair. Weaving Witch-Woman even claimed to be forced into service and detained against her will. Koutsodaimonas wasn’t aware of the truth, and would not have liked it at all if he learned it, as he was quite smitten with the Dark Lady (but could the Protagonists make an ally of him?). Three persons were in the dungeons at the time as well, all targets of the Lady’s plan and the Woman’s spell (each wore a grey ribbon round their wrist). Hans Trapp had been a mistake, a spell that backfired and turned him not into a puppet strategist but into a foppish dandy, useless to both plotters. Gunnhild the Valkyrie was an outstanding fighter and the Woman’s personal bodyguard, as the later had little trust in Koutsodaimonas:

Gunnhild!the!Valkyrie Aspect A buxom warrior Virtues Head 3 / Heart 4 / Hand 6 Charms Can turn insubstantial Fights fiercely with a spear and shield Can predict how you’ll die Has a powerful voice Taboos Overdone German accent Large and unwieldy


Arthur Rackham

The Toad King was not very bright but able to turn himself into the most glamorous prince, and was therefore consort-to-be to the High Queen:

The!Toad!King

Aspect A dumb shape-shifter Virtues Head 2 / Heart 6 / Hand 4 Charms Can turn to a handsome prince Turn persons to beasts and the other way round Has a wonderful singing voice

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Taboos

Stupid Eats flies (even in human form)

Master Johannes Rübezahl was the Lord under the Mountain, sovereign to all Knockers and mining beings:

Master!Rübezahl Aspect Lord of Under Virtues Head 7 / Heart 6 / Hand 8 Charms Can trigger volcanoes or earthquakes


Taboos

Commands all underground miners Is ogre-sized Knows where riches lie buried Rules over a populous Domain Can out-drink anyone Sows rocks to grow mountains Party animal Can’t resist a joke

Of course, at least one of the two wicked damsels should have escaped to take revenge. But that was another story…

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The!Ass’!Skin Once!upon!a!time!.!.!. The Protagonists found themselves beset by storms, incessantly plagued by foul weather, tempests, whipping winds, and storms so black that no fire would burn. The only illumination to light their path were the frequent and thundering blasts of lightning. Tired and hungry, they stumbled over their own feet, desperate for any shelter. It was then that they saw the ruins: a vast deserted city that lay stretched out before them. In better times they might have circumvented such a foreboding expanse of ruin, but desperate as they were for even fragmentary shelter, they picked their way into the city.

Giovanni Battista Piranesi


Some claimed that the old city had been called Parigi; others said, nay, it was old Chatel Hayk; still others called it Agarttha. It had once been magnificent, judging from the number of old roads, overgrown and be-nettled, that crawled away from it like sickly spiders. Witnesses of past glories too were the gleaming fragments of marbles and porphyry, bleached white and weathered aubergine nearly black, but not altogether unmagnificent The huge and ancient citadel that now laid as a sprawling, overgrown ruin of jumbled stones and flowering creepers from horizon to horizon. The old river that wound through the heart of the ruins was nearly spent, its god long ago vacated, but even so ancient prickly bridges could be seen crossing over the bare trickle of damp meandering mud, their equestrian statues pointing broken swords at a doddering sky. Alas! the Protagonists soon discovered that the ruins were haunted by the howling fairy of Parigi, La Llorona, whose keening wail brought madness and death. Ever searching for her lost child, she roamed the ruins moaning and bewailing her bereavement. Many times had her terrifying cry driven her victims fleeing in fright, only to run headlong off a cliff like pile of ruins.

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La!Llorona Aspect A wailing ghost Virtues Head 3 / Heart 6 / Hand 0 Charms Can fly insubstantially Has a terrifying keening wail Taboos Wanders the ruins looking for her lost daughter Hates the living Lonely Single-minded Those unfortunate enough to meet Defeat at the banshee’s spectral hands were forever more terrified of desolate places and being alone (-3 Curse in those circumstances), and furthermore felt compelled to aid helpless children (new Taboo). Finally, bone-weary from their storm-tossed journeys and trials in the ruins, they emerged from the other side of the crumbling ruins and discovered the Inn of Bridging Sighs. There they unloaded their aching feet and slaked their parched throats on the fringes of the ruins. The inn where they thus fortified themselves was a famous and ancient establishment, a built-up rambling affair that had been handed down father to son (and sometimes mother to daughter) for as long as anyone in Faerie could remember. The city upon whose edge it had been built had long ago succumbed to decay, but the Inn remained.


E.A. Abbey

Where the city was noble even in its ruinous state, the Inn was boisterous and crude. Here crumbled dignity gave way to raucous laughter. In the ruins could still be seen the measured hands of solemn architects, but the Inn was a lapsus of wood and mud brick, the work of a drunk carpenter and idiot mason. It turned and turned again, encircling courtyard upon courtyard like a child’s dizzying game. In places one hardly knew where a colonnade began and a stand of trees ended, or what was a door and what was a window. Against the severe if fragrant pall of the ancient stones the Inn was a festive accident of beam and wall. It had an easy

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loping grace in spite of its artlessness (or because of it), and even its leaking tile roofs (for there were very many) had a charm that tended to draw a smile. Even the Inn could not completely escape the steady grinding of Ruin. And in the tradition of the great city that was its foil and backdrop, the Inn let those parts of itself that had tumbled down stay were they were, and its owners just built up another part somewhere else to compensate for the loss. So it was that the place had grown ever more rambling, ever more crotchety, like an oldster muttering in his bathrobe.

an ass’ skin. I have been turned out into the wide world by my father, furious with me for disobeying his wishes. Would you have any food or drink to share with a hungry child?”

Nevertheless, here were our Protagonists, enjoying their rest beneath the eaves of an overlong roof supported on jasmine-choked columns. It was pleasant weather, warm and sunny by day, crisp and cool at night. The wine was good and flowed freely, and somewhere in a kitchen something roasted that smelled delicious, and dangled the promise of a fat nap afterwards before their noses. From table to table wandered a young child, a beggar girl judging from her ragged patchwork clothing and old cloak made from an animal’s skin. She approached each group of patrons, spoke a few words to them, then was turned away. When the time came for the Protagonists to be visited, she curtsied to them meekly, then spoke. “I am but a poor beggar girl, as your lordships and ladyships can readily see from my ragged clothes and only coat,


Artist unknown

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If the Protagonists showed the least sympathy or offer the slightest assistance, she beamed happily at them and pronounced a blessing upon them. Whether she volunteered her story, or the Protagonists asked her what disobedient act merited her being disowned by her own flesh and blood, sooner or later her sad story came out. Her father, she said, had suffered from a long wasting illness. Just when it seemed to his doting daughter that he might perish, he miraculously recovered. Alas, if his body was stronger, the fevers had weakened his mind. He had become mad, and became determined to wed his only daughter, his proper wife having expired of the same illness. Thus the young girl ran away from home rather than marry her father. With her she carried the skin of an ass her father had slaughtered in his madness. The creature had been her only childhood friend, and to her surprise its skin could talk. It advised her to seek her grandmother, who prophesied that if the skin were returned to life, her father would be cured of his illness. Thus the girl and her talking skin wandered Faerie, hoping to find someone who could restore the ass to life. Would the Protagonists help her? Had they fallen victim to La Llorona, or had any sympathy for the waif, they surely would.


The!Crystal!Cavern If the Protagonists agreed to help the beggar girl, so much the better. But even if they rejected her when she approached them at the Inn of Bridging Sighs, on the morrow one of them found the ass’ skin among his or her belongings. And try as they might, they were absolutely unable to rid themselves of the talking skin, which unrelentingly exhorted them to help its small mistress. Of the girl herself not a hair could be seen—only her hide. The skin directed the Protagonists to the Crystal Cavern, a landmark of some repute in these parts. Most people at the inn knew where it lay, but warned that it was said to be haunted. Tracing a stream back up into the foothills, they found a great waterfall high in the hills. Behind it lay the cavern, but attaining it involved a difficult and slippery, wet climb. To make matters more troublesome, the talking ass’ skin insisted that the Protagonists scoop up some water from the falls.

Behind!the!waterfall Calamity Penalty

4 Fall / Swept away downstream and lost for three days / Drowned under waterfall

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Within the cavern stood a great mirror, its edges sharp and irregular, its surface warbled and distorting. At first glance, it almost seemed as if it were a second cascade within the cave, and the roar of the real cataract prevented anyone’s noticing that the mirror was silent. All who looked upon it caused their reflection, an exact and opposite duplicate of themselves, to leap forth from the mirror and do battle. The doppelgangers tended to be corruptions of their originals, so Virtue scores were rearranged, and Charms and Taboos altered to reflect the opposite nature of the doubles. Those who were Defeated by their counterparts found themselves drawn into the mirror, while their victorious duplicates attempted to flee into Faerie. This represented a new Taboo for Defeated Protagonist, as their double made mischief throughout Faerie in the originals’ name. Defeated doppelgangers disappeared, but victorious Protagonists found they had no longer possessed reflections in any reflective surface. This new minor Charm allowed Protagonists to sneak up behind people in front of mirrors, but had its drawbacks too: grooming was difficult, and others might fear a reflectionless person.

Artist unknown


Those inside the looking glass found themselves in a mirror image of the cave they had left, but with a long tunnel where the mouth facing the waterfall would have been. Those still in the original cave

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could simply walk into the mirror, once their reflections were banished, if they thought of it. All who passed through the mirror found on their person a smooth-edged shard of crystal; the skin urged them to keep those safe, for they would need to give them to the Pillar. When it spoke, its normally squeaky voice seemed to bubble through the water.

The!City!of!Sand The tunnel led through the darkness for what seemed like days, eventually rising slowly but surely and emerging suddenly after a sharp turn onto some old worn steps into blinding sunlight. All about them lay desolate dunes and a wind-swept desert. In the near distance rose a squat, walled city, while on the horizon a jagged line of purple mountains sawed a cobalt sky. Given the forsaken scene before them, the ass’ skin full of water they had bothered to carry from the falls now seemed like a boon. Once again it spoke, telling the Protagonists to seek the Pillar. As they inevitably approached the city, the Protagonists could see workers crawling over its walls like dark ants. Each carried pails and small buckets, piling sand onto the walls, patting it, scraping it, shaping it like children making sandcastles. A wide low arched opening in the wall, the sand city’s only gate, was guarded by soldiers with conical iron helms and long spears. Upon seeing the Protagonists approach with their bag of water, they formed a bristling thicket of spear points like a


leaning palisade. Their captain spoke: “Halt strangers! You come to our city bearing water, which is forbidden to all but the Untouchables.”

Guardians!of!the!Gate Aspect Virtues Charms Taboos

A spear-wielding throng Head 2 / Heart 4 / Hand 8 Form an impenetrable wall of spears Cannot be surprised Guard the gate with their lives

By the author, illustration from a photograph

If at this point the Protagonists mentioned that they sought “the Pillar”, the officer responded: “Stay at

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bay, then, until we fetch him. Now I see that you require one of your own caste to be your guide.” After a while an old man was escorted outside the gate by the soldiers. He was stripped to his waist and clad in a simple white cloth and loose turban. He had a kindly if troubled face, lined with care, the sun and wind and sand, and years of work. His back was stooped but strong as if accustomed to long years of carrying weighty burdens. When he saw the Protagonists and their skin of water, he made a sign to them and bowed. “Welcome, my brethren, be welcome, o pitiable wretches. I am Gorvus, called the Pillar. Come and follow me to my home and share what hospitality I have. There you may rest a spell and lay down your burdens for a while. But beware! Let not a drop of your water or sweat fall upon the streets or walls of our city, for whoso commits this crime, his punishment shall be death, and it shall come swiftly!” With these words both gracious and alarming, he led the Protagonists into the City of Sand. As they entered, the soldiers hemmed them in, creating a path through their spears for the Protagonists to follow Gorvus. Once beyond the great sand arch, the soldiers left them to their devices and returned to their post. As he walked with the Protagonists through the City of Sand, the old man explained his lot in life.


“I am the elder of the Untouchables, the waterbearing class of the City of Sand. We bring water to all the houses, give life to the orchards and gardens, and quench the thirst of the people of our city. But as you can see all our houses, palaces, and even the streets and city walls themselves are made of sand. When water spills here is a great crime, for it washes away the toil of our people and our ancestors and our ancestor’s ancestors. “We are born into this caste which, bearing yon ass skin filled with water, you too must join. Come to my home. I will show you.” And thus Gorvus led them through the sand streets and past the packed sand buildings, along the orchards of date palms, fruit trees, and hanging gardens of fragrant blossoms. Down a crooked narrow alley he led them, to a small courtyard ringed with the only stone edifices they had seen so far. Each house was a flat-roofed affair, but only waisthigh. Each had irregular, narrow openings for windows, where two huge sandstone blocks came together with gap. Each had a narrow stair cut into the earth, leading to a low doorless opening, and one had to stoop to enter the low portals. As all the water-bearers living in this courtyard were almost as stooped as old Gorvus, this posed not the slightest inconvenience for them.

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Inside the house of the Untouchable it was dark and cool, if bare. The sunken floor afforded a comfortable, if low, ceiling height. A single room served for cooking, eating and resting. A second room beyond stored Gorvus’ tools — his waterbearer’s poles and clay pots, skins and jugs for drawing, carrying, and pouring water. In the center of the floor of this back room was a hole — Gorvus’ well from which he drew all his water. The water within was high, and shone with an oily blackness.

Gorvus!the!Pillar Aspect An old pariah Virtues Head 3 / Heart 7 / Hand 5 Charms Can carry great weights Never spills a drop of water Taboos Member of a reviled caste Serves the City of Sand faithfully Gorvus took a ladle of water from a trough in the floor near the door and ceremoniously tipped its contents over his body. So skillful was he that not a drop fell to the floor, but each diamond of water — for the droplets sparkled like precious stones in the harsh piercing light which raked in through the few chinks in the wall — clung to him as if it feared to spill. After this respectful baptism, he offered his ladle to each of his guests, and they were free to likewise lave themselves or not.


Then, the old man offered his guests a little food and a space to lie down and rest. “For on the morrow I must carry water for the masters of the city.” The Pillar explained that every day, long before sunrise, he drank water and ate bread for breakfast, and when thus fortified he loaded himself with skins and jars. He drew water from the well, then set out about the city with the other Untouchables. No part of the city was closed to this caste, no hovel, no house, no walled garden, no palace could they not enter. First, they went about the city watering trees and plants, emptying and replenishing chamber pots (for the Untouchables were also the nightsoilmen of the City of Sand). As dawn rose, they washed the waking people of the city with barely moistened sponges, and dispensed water for them to drink. Except for baths and when drinking, no water was allowed to touch the people of the city. It was backbreaking work, heavy as their loads of water were. At the end of his story,the ass’ skin spoke. “Ask Gorvus about the Mountain Lord,” it squeaked. If the Protagonists did as the skin bid, Gorvus grew quiet and seemed nervous. “That is not a happy subject,” was his first response. If they pressed him, he refused to speak further, claiming that discussing the Mountain Lord was unlucky. “But if you had a charm of some sort to bring me luck, then I suppose I could,” he offered.

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If any Protagonists offered him the small pieces of fused glass from the Crystal Cavern, he became more tractable. Holding the crystals tightly, he spoke: “The Lord of the Mountain is a terrible fiend. No one from the city goes near there. At night the city guards with their torches vigilantly watch from the tops of the city walls. It is against an attack by the Mountain Lord that they guard. “My own son I lost to the Mountain Lord, when he sought to break the bonds of our caste and leave the city. In a dream afterwards I saw him enslaved and broken. “The old fiend lives in an old castle in the violet mountains beyond our city. If you wish to visit him, go there by day, for the mountain paths are treacherous at night. Also, his servants fear the direct light of the sun; take some of the pieces of your mirror with you. Finally, know that the Mountain Lord knows all that transpires in the dark.”

At!the!Mountain!Lord’s!Keep At night, while the rest of the city slept, as the waterbearers made their rounds, the Protagonists could have slipped away. By dawn they reached the foothills of the mountain, and from there they could spy a small fortresslike ruin built atop a sharp ridge. For those who could fly the ascent was not


impossible, if tiring. But anyone reduced to scaling the mountain found the way difficult and trying. Most of the way up the mountain the climbers could hear the telltale howls of approaching wolves. Soon these great beasts appeared, scrambling over rocks with the ease of mountain goats, their enormous lolling tongues pink pendulums protruding from their monstrous jaws, their jet coats lost amidst the purpleblack stones of the mountainside. Their huge ears and manes kept their glinting eyes ever in sunken shadow, and they were careful to always keep their backs to the sun. The wolves circled and bayed, ever out of reach, kicking loose stones which shot down the mountain with terrifying speed, in turn dislodging larger stones and boulders. Before long the Protagonists were clinging desperately to the side of the mountain for their very lives.

Avalanche Calamity Penalty

5 Exhausted / Broken limb / Swept crushed and broken off the mountain

If the Protagonists used the remaining crystal shards to reflect the sun into the wolves’ eyes, the beast fled yelping and squealing, unable to cause the avalanche. If they somehow managed to engage the wolves, they found them to be ferocious adversaries.

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Mountain!Wolf

Aspect A monstrous wolf Virtues Head 2 / Heart 3 / Hand 4 Charms Can break bone, rock, and steel in its great jaws Climbs like a mountain goat Tireless tracker Taboos Spies for the Lord of the Mountain Dumb, if cunning, brute Flees from the direct light of the sun With luck and courage the Protagonists reached the top of the mountain. There, as expected, they found the remains of an ancient stone castle. Most of its outer walls had come down, as well as its towers, except for one. This one had an ancient portcullis facing north and the former castle courtyard in one corner, its ogee arch on a bias to the square tower. Opening it required a Roll 13 at - 2, against Hand. The ground floor beyond had a soaring, vaulted ceiling which the weak north light, darkened as it was in the shadows of the nearby mountain peaks, illuminated but feebly. Chillingly, the crumbling stone floor sloped gently towards a large iron grate in the middle of the large room, and from which the piercing twittering and scratching of large black rats could be heard. Opposite the entrance a corner of the room contained a narrow, steep circular stair buried within its stone mass. High above, a colony of bats nested among the ribbed stone vaulting. As the Protagonists climbed the stairs the bats descended in a flurry, alarming the


rats and driving them from their sewer as they, too, swarmed the Protagonists.

Giovanni Battista Piranesi

Bats!and!rats Calamity Penalty

2 Cuts and bites (-1 Hand) / Panicked (-2 Heart) / Frozen in fear

Following the stairs upward and upward, the Protagonists discovered a sordid chamber filled with ancient but well-maintained implements of torture.

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To have described them would make one shudder and recoil in horror. More disquieting still, at each station of the tormentor’s art, ample examples could be found of blood-encrusted vessels, small scalpels and awls, and rubbery hoses, as if each victim were systematically drained of blood whilst suffering unspeakable agonies. In a corner of the room stood an elaborately carved armoire, its pair of wooden doors embellished with the leering visages of toothy demons. Door pulls, small bronze rings like amphisbaena, were anchored in each gaping mouth. So frightful were the carvings, so wicked seemed the rings, that merely grasping them required a Roll 13 against Heart. If the doors were swung open by anyone other than their master or his servitor, the contents appeared to be empty, and the hinges screamed hideously. Within the armoire was a secret, fearful library of grimoires and tomes dealing in all manner of dark arts, especially necromancy and hematolatry. There was also a slim little book, tucked away behind the others and easily missed unless the cabinet was thoroughly searched. Titled Le père du loup-garou (“The werewolf’s father”), much of the text was illegible, obscured by childish scribblings and drawings such as one might find drawn in crayon, except these were all scrawled in thick, globby brown lines, like congealed blood.


From this chamber another stair behind the armoire led to the top of the tower. This last level was divided like an apartment, with a foyer, sitting room, withdrawing room, small kitchens, and bed chamber beyond. All the rooms were appointed with lavish if decaying furnishings, from threadbare tapestries to lumpy, broken-legged divans and ottomans. Everywhere lay scattered the evidence of an unkempt household, with crockery and used dishes, goblets especially, stacked on the floor, piled on chairs, or left under tables. Upon examination, all the dirty dishes had evidence of dried blood on them. Oddly, the entire floor was covered with loose earth, a handspan deep or more. The few windows in the place were boarded up, with heavy moth-eaten curtains drawn over them. A large, lone candelabra dimly illuminated the foyer and sitting room. Ambling about the apartment was a pale, sluggish servitor, listlessly going about picking up dishes, stacking them, and moving them around from one place to another, without ever really making an appreciable difference. Strewn all about the room were scores of small red slips of paper, each scrawled with a brief instruction: “Clean up”, “Spread more dirt on the floor” “Bring me the black book with the gold letters” The servitor bore a more than passing resemblance to Gorvus the Pillar. His ashen skin; sunken, lifeless eyes; shriveled, rotting flesh; and ambling, shuffling

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gate marked him as a poor unfortunate victim of the lord of the keep, one who had been captured, tortured, drained of blood, and turned into an undead slave. At the first sign of intruders, he followed his master’s instructions, knocking over and extinguishing the candelabra, and turning on them and attacking!

Zombie

Aspect A shambling corpse Virtues Head 0 / Heart 1 / Hand 5 Charms Impervious to pain Keeps going unless head destroyed or body burned Its nails are fierce claws Taboos Mindless Completely obedient to instructions on red paper Slowly rotting away Uncoordinated and slow Between the screeching of the opening armoire and the scuffling battle with the zombie, the keep’s master, the Mountain Lord, was sure to be alerted. With the apartment darkened, he could see everything that went on within, and was able to read the minds of anyone standing on the earthen floor. He relied on these advantages and his zombie servant to defend himself, going so far as to attack interlopers by stealth with a knife, or even luring them back down to his torture chamber. No amount of negotiation would dissuade him from attempting to destroy the Protagonists, as he knew from reading


their minds that they had been sent by the owner of the ass’ skin.

The!Mountain!Lord

Aspect A chthonian fiend Virtues Head 9 / Heart 4 / Hand 4 Charms Can read the minds of anyone standing on earth Cannot be hurt by anything of the earth Controls crops His blood can resurrect others Can see anything that is in darkness over any distance Taboos Drinks blood Hates the sun If they overcame the Mountain Lord in the end, the Protagonists might have been shocked to see the ass’ skin fling itself on him, its limp donkey-like head producing teeth with which it tore out his throat. As rivers of blood — all the blood he had ever drunk — flowed from his wound, the skin soaked up every drop.

On!the!Morrow Each Protagonist awoke in a bed in the Inn of Bridging Sighs. Outside, dawn tinged the sky like blood in the water and birds sang to greet the impending sunrise. Going down to breakfast, they found the beggar girl, still clad in her ass’ skin, awaiting them in a courtyard. She seemed pleased to see them, and her eyes shone bright.

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“Thank you for destroying my father; I knew you could do it! Thanks to you I am free of him! Please accept this neckless as a token of my gratitude”. She handed them each a small tooth, like a baby tooth, on a leather string. The necklace gave the wearer +2 to rolls in the dark for the next Tale, then +1, then faded altogether. If she was asked, “ And what of your ass? Why has it not been restored?” “Oh that!” she laughed — and it was not an entirely wholesome laugh. “That was just a fairy-tale to get you to go to my father. This is no donkey skin, my friends, my helpmates; it is my skin!” And with that the pelt seemed to grow around her like a protective coat, its legs like tendrils enveloping her, its head first a spreading cowl then a helmet until finally it settled as a great monstrous head atop her growing body, now more dog than ass. Her body shot up, until in the blink of an eye she was no longer a little girl, but a great monster, wolf-like, a towering menace.

The!Mountain!Lord’s!Daughter

Aspect A fearsome werewolf Virtues Head 5 / Heart 4 / Hand 10 Charms Strong beyond measure in battle Her skin turns weapons and blows Can only be killed by silver Can change shape to a little girl In child form her talking skin is independent Taboos Cannot directly harm anyone of her own blood Hates the moon Turns to a werewolf on full moon nights If the Mountain Lord’s Daughter Defeated the Protagonists in an ensuing battle, they found themselves afraid of the moon (Curse: -2 in moonlight); even if hers was a crushing victory she refrained from hurting them further, given her gratitude for their service. But once enemies, if they ever met again, they could expect a less gentle treatment. On the other hand, if they remained on friendly terms, the girl would owe them a debt of service.

If the Protagonists thought it wise to attack her, she growled, her spinelike hairs bristling, and spoke. “I am grateful to you, for you have done what I never could have, but now my power has grown to encompass my father’s. But do not test me!”


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Appendix

Character!Sheet The following two pages are the front and back of a character record sheet. Feel free to photocopy it, or you can download PDF versions of the sheet (formatted for letter-sized paper, in color and in greyscale) from MalcontentGames.com. Most of the sheet should be fairly self-evident. Record your Virtue scores in the circles with the Head, Heart and Hand icons. At the bottom of the sheet is what looks like a table, with boxes numbered from -40 to 119. This is simply a counter for tracking your cumulative narrative Modifiers over the course


of Tales. Every time the narrator assigns you a Narrative bonus (or penalty), circle the appropriate total tally of all your accumulated Narrative Modifiers. If you have a total of +13 Narrative Modifiers in your character’s career, and you are awarded a +2 bonus (good job by the way!), then erase the lightly penciled circle you drew around the “13” box and circle “15”. You’ll remember that you spend those Narrative bonuses to gain new abilities for your Protagonist (see Character Growth, page 31). Once spent, subtract those bonuses from your tally record. They are gone.

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Name Player

Aspect

Seven Leagues

A!fantasy!roleplaying game!of!Faerie Ivan Bilibin


Charms

Taboos

Legend

Legend

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Legend

-40 -20 0 20 40 60 80 100

-39 -19 1 21 41 61 81 101

-38 -18 2 22 42 62 82 102


-37 -17 3 23 43 63 83 103

-36 -16 4 24 44 64 84 104

-35 -15 5 25 45 65 85 105

Legend

-34 -14 6 26 46 66 86 106

-33 -13 7 27 47 67 87 107

-32 -12 8 28 48 68 88 108

-31 -11 9 29 49 69 89 109

-30 -10 10 30 50 70 90 110

-29 -9 11 31 51 71 91 111

-28 -8 12 32 52 72 92 112

-27 -7 13 33 53 73 93 113

Cumulative!Narrative!Modifiers

-26 -6 14 34 54 74 94 114

-25 -5 15 35 55 75 95 115

-24 -4 16 36 56 76 96 116

-23 -3 17 37 57 77 97 117

-22 -2 18 38 58 78 98 118

-21 -1 19 39 59 79 99 119

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Seven Leagues, A Fantasy RPG of Faerie

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