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Godsbarrow Miscellaneous geekery Tabletop RPGs

10 years of Yore, and dusting off proto-Godsbarrow ideas from 2013

Today is Yore’s 10th anniversary! I wrote my first blog post here on August 28, 2012: Reading Appendix N: The project, the appendix, and the goal.

10! Years!

That’s longer than my time blogging on Gnome Stew (just shy of 8 years) or Treasure Tables before that (just over 2 years). Hell, it’s almost longer than both of them combined.

Part of why Yore continues to work for me is that it’s my place to write whatever I want to write, not worry too much about whether anyone is reading it, and post when the mood strikes me — without keeping any sort of schedule, resulting in fewer posts per year than either GS or TT (by a long shot).

I do hope folks enjoy it, though! I’ve been posting gaming stuff online since the late 1990s, and one consistent throughline over the past 20-plus years is that I generally post stuff I find interesting that I think other folks might find useful, or enjoy, or both.

Waymark

Godsbarrow isn’t the first fantasy setting I’ve taken a stab at: It was preceded by what are, in hindsight, several “proto-Godsbarrows,” and from time to time I like to go back and cherry-pick my best ideas from those early iterations. A post that just says “Yay, 10 years!” is kind of boring — so I figured I’d blow the dust off an old proto-Godsbarrow post and see what it has to offer.

I picked a Yore draft post entitled “file” from March 18, 2013. I probably haven’t looked at it since then, and I have no idea why it’s a draft post rather than a Notepad file on my PC like the rest of my worldbuilding notes.

“file” is sandwiched between Reading Appendix N posts I never finished writing, a card game called Spires of Prague that I really need to get back to someday, and what I think is an archived draft of my free RPG Signal Lost, which I designed for Game Check 2013

Guiding principles for worldbuilding

That post included some stuff that very much informs how I’m developing Godsbarrow nearly 10 years later. Like these guiding principles:

  1. Don’t be subtle and don’t hold back: If it’s worth noting, it’s worth taking too far. Don’t avoid clichés; they work well in games.
  2. Dot no Is and cross no Ts: It doesn’t have to be done to be playable. It will never be done. Being unfinished is a virtue.
  3. The Rule of Two Things: Each point of interest on the map should be most notable for two things. Remembering lots of things is hard, especially as a player; remembering two is easy.
  4. The world is the world: If there are giants in the hills, it’s because there are giants in the hills–not because the PCs are “ready” to face giants.

I’m probably tempering #1 a bit these days, and #2 is less relevant as parts of Godsbarrow get more fully fleshed-out — yet entirely relevant in some ways. For example, the Godsbarrow campaign I’m currently running is going just fine despite the setting being nowhere near finished.

I don’t hew religiously to #3, but it does tend to be how I think of points of interest. If one needs more than two things to make it sing, that’s cool — but less is often more. #4 is 100% still how I worldbuild and how I run D&D-alikes.

Godsbarrow: at least 10 years in the making

This 2013 draft isn’t the oldest proto-Godsbarrow material, although it’s close. The oldest stuff on my hard drive that’s recognizably the rough clay from which I’m molding Godsbarrow dates back to April 2012. Like all worldbuilding, naturally there are much older ideas that bubble up and work their way into current stuff, but back in 2012-2013 I was actively building a setting — variously called Bleakstone or Waymark — using elements that are part of Godsbarrow.

Skulvezar, Godsbarrow’s god of skeletons, makes an appearance in that 2013 draft post. Proto-Skulvezar was more closely connected with demons; I tightened him up for Godsbarrow. Ditto the town of Cape Reckless, in the Unlucky Isles. I would have sworn Cape Reckless dated back to maybe 2016, not 2013, but there it was.

Hexcrawl points of interest

There are some names in there I need to pull into Godsbarrow — and the village of Garbriar definitely needs to make an appearance: “Garbriar is famous for its spicy prickleberry stew and for having the ugliest villagers in all of Saxum. By local tradition, village roofs are thatched with prickleberry branches.” (There’s a Rule of Two Things write-up, complete with breaking the rule with a third thing.)

Here are a few other points of interest, which I was writing up hex by hex in 2013. There’s some stuff here that would be right at home in Godsbarrow, and may just wind up there.

  • The Godsroad (0705): Maintained by laborers from Temple Town (often those doing penance or donating their time to a Church), the Godsroad is neutral territory between Saxum and Harth, traveled by traders, pilgrims, and soldiers alike.
  • Great North Road (0607): Laid down by the Vazdurak Empire centuries ago, the Great North Road is wide, clear, and well-traveled. It serves as the main trade route connecting Harth and Saxum. Waymarks — statues of demonic figures that stand about waist high, many weathered almost beyond recognition — are placed every quarter mile along the north edge of the road.
  • Cursed Grove (0906): This twisted, overgrown forest’s name isn’t hyperbole: Anyone who spends the night here has a chance of becoming cursed. Curses tend to last a few days and include things like being struck mute, seeing everyone around you as a demon, crying blood non-stop, or shouting “Hail Murgoth!” every few minutes. Every variety of mundane spiders can be found in the Cursed Grove, and in great numbers.
  • Galconny (0607): Galconny was previously the northernmost city in the Vazdurak Empire, and the present-day city is built on the bones and ashes of that one. Where the old architecture survives, it’s all devils and demons: sinister carvings in every archway, markets held in ancient arenas formerly devoted to blood sports and sacrifices, brown-stained cobbles that never come clean.

Our Dragons Are Different

Back in 2013, I had a whole thing where I was reimagining all of the staples of D&D monster manual — a perfect example of the Our Elves Are Different trope. I have mixed feelings about that trope, but I guess on balance I like it. It hearkens back to the grand tradition of heartbreaker fantasy RPGs, which isn’t an unambiguously good thing, but it also has real practical weight for anyone designing a fantasy world for publication. Why? Because it gets straight at this key question: Why should anyone play a game in your world instead of the countless existing fantasy campaign settings?

When it’s done right (which is the hard part), “because our elves are different” is a pretty solid answer to that question. (Not the only answer, of course!) If you’re running D&D or any D&D-alike, and the world is broadly based on some of the common themes therein, you probably need elves. But do they need to be D&D or Tolkien elves? No…but they should have enough in common that you can identify them as elves — while being different in ways that evoke the setting you’re trying to create and add to your enjoyment while exploring it.

As a concept, “elf” is delightfully mutable. (That same mutability is one reason superheroes are so neat.) I like elves, and dwarves, and halflings, and other staple fantasy species, and I’m enjoying riffing on the core concepts of these species in Godsbarrow. The only elves I’ve written up so far are from the Arkestran Dominion, and their species originates in the Wraithsea — their ancestors were literally born out of the dreams of sleeping gods. A lot of what makes an elf an elf clicks in a different way when that’s the starting point.

In that same vein, the dragons I wrote up for Waymark in 2013 are pretty appealing to me in 2022 — and thus far I haven’t written the word “dragon” in connection with Godsbarrow. Not every fantasy setting needs them, certainly, but I can see going this direction with dragons if they ever appear in Godsbarrow. (The petrified expanses led directly to the next iteration of this unfinished setting, Bleakstone.)

Dragons haven’t been seen in Waymark for over two centuries, and most people think they’re just a myth. The strange stony expanses found throughout Waymark are most often attributed to dragons, and are most often called Wyrmstone. They’re shunned and feared by just about everyone.

There are six dragons in the world, each a Prince of Hell. They’re arch-devils in service of Skulvezar, revered as the Apocalypse Dragons by the Vazdurak Empire and now simply known as dragons. Their touch petrifies everything around them — the ground, people, plants, animals, everything.

Waymark is dotted with expanses of Wyrmstone, places where a dragon set foot on the earth and permanently transformed the landscape–and anyone or anything unfortunate enough to be in the area–into bleak grey stone. Wyrmstone expanses have existed for as long as anyone can remember, but rumors persist that new areas of Wyrmstone have begun to appear, and that existing areas are expanding.

From my 2013 notes on Waymark, one of the unfinished settings that laid the groundwork for Godsbarrow

It was neat to find this old post, poke through it, and see the lines connecting it to present-day Godsbarrow. Hopefully you enjoyed this bit of noodling.

Thank you!

If you’re here, reading this, thank you for checking out Yore — whether you’ve been stopping by for years or are visiting for the first time. Here’s to the next 10 years!

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Godsbarrow Tabletop RPGs

Making good progress on the manuscript for The Unlucky Isles

I’ve finished my first draft of half the countries in The Unlucky Isles!

I also have about 60% of each of the other three countries written up, awaiting all the new material and restructuring I’ve done with the first three, as well as a good chunk of the introductory elements.

It’s clocking in at around 20,000 words so far, which is already more than I expected when I started this book.

When I was planning to lay it out in my word processing software, include a few pieces of royalty-free historical artwork, and convert it into a PDF, I was a lot closer to done. But I’m going a slightly more involved route — and that’s given me time to slow down and really consider what I want to see in a setting book like this.

Which in turn has meant writing a lot of new material, restructuring more of the existing material than I expected, and doing a deeper dive into each country — while, I hope, still striking the balance between depth and conciseness that works best in a regional gazetteer like this one.

I’m also just plain having fun. Rounding out the corners of these places with “sensory snapshots,” notes about cuisine and names, and all the details that bring a fantasy nation and its people to life has been a blast. I’m learning about Godsbarrow as I write about it, which brings me joy — and I’m working to share that joy with you in a useful, gameable way.

Want to be notified as soon as The Unlucky Isles is published?

My friend and former partner in crime at Gnome Stew and Engine Publishing, Matt Neagley, asked what the best way was to find out when The Unlucky Isles is published, and that’s a great question with an easy answer.

On the Halfbeard Press publisher page [affiliate link] on DriveThruRPG, on the left side of the page, you’ll see a spot that says “Check this to follow Halfbeard Press” with a little checkbox next to it.

Check that box, make sure you don’t have publisher emails turned off globally on DTRPG, and you’ll get an email whenever Halfbeard Press puts out a product — starting with The Unlucky Isles.

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Godsbarrow PbtA Tabletop RPGs

The first Godsbarrow campaign

Yore has been quiet, but I’ve been busy for the past couple of months — hobby-wise, painting Warhammer 40k terrain (which I haven’t gotten around to photographing yet) and starting up the first Godsbarrow campaign.

After over a year of lonely fun creating this setting using Worlds Without Number [paid link], it’s absolutely delightful to be running a game set in Godsbarrow. There’s a simple, powerful magic to creating a setting and then playing in it, and it has been decades since I ran a game in a homebrewed setting. (Most of my fantasy campaigns have been set in the Forgotten Realms, Dragonlance’s other continent, Taladas, Warhammer’s Old World, or Spelljammer, with detours into Ravenloft and Dark Sun.)

Even when I did run games set in my own world, as a kid, my settings were never very developed (not that that’s a bad thing), and none of them were ever My Setting in the way that Godsbarrow is. This time, it feels different.

Bal Acar, hexcrawling, the the Keepers of the Thousandfold Chains

The three of us wanted to play a hexcrawl, exploring a strange and dangerous place, and we liked the idea of using Dungeon World [paid link] and exploring Godsbarrow.

Before our first session, I created the largely unexplored island of Bal Acar (situated north of Kadavis, east of the Arkestran Dominion, and northeast of the Unlucky Isles) for us to collaboratively develop through play. And unlike the rest of Godsbarrow, I left it blank save for one settlement, Drem Kallow, which would be the party’s home base.

During the first Godsbarrow session (ever!) on June 7, 2022, the other players, my friends Greg Mumford and Rustin Simons, created the Keepers of the Thousandfold Chains, a coven of witches who both bind and exploit the Bleating Horde, an infinite evil — a deity whose every aspect contains part of the whole.

Both of their characters, Auderna, witch of the Bleating Horde (Rustin), and the Witchblade Dabr de Aaust (Greg), are part of the coven, and have had nightmares about demons, riddles, and Bal Acar. The coven tasked them with exploring Bal Acar to seek the truth behind prophetic dreams and the irrational, unnatural scratchings of sages which spoke of that strange place.

In our second session (June 14), we finished up character creation and started mapping the area around Drem Kallow using The Perilous Wilds [paid link]. (Which, as an aside, isn’t just one of the best Dungeon World supplements ever written — it’s one of the best gaming books ever written.) That mapping process stretched into our third session, on July 5, when we started in-character play — the first time characters had ever ventured into Godsbarrow!

Our Google Jamboard map as of the end of our first session, created using the rules in The Perilous Wilds and showing the party’s first day of travel (the dotted line heading southeast from Drem Kallow)

The mapping process from TPW was a hoot, and it produced all sorts of stuff none of us would ever have come up with on our own. I staunchly resisted the urge to develop Bal Acar in any way between sessions, with the lone exception that A Market in the Woods [paid link] was just too perfect to pass up; I knew I wanted that one on the map, so when it was my turn to add a steading, I added the Market.

We’d previously decided that rather than Dungeon World’s default “hard frame” start, we’d open with the expedition leaving Drem Kallow. The guys picked the Market in the Woods, known for being a source of information about Bal Acar, as their destination, and headed out into the driving rain to explore Bal Acar.

A Danger (per TPW) was encountered on day one (the 1 on the map), so I rolled it up randomly using TPW. Auderna, Dabr, their abnormal goat, Thett (a Horde Goat, connected to their deity, who can talk), and their two hirelings, Nus and Amsan Peśna (both rolled up randomly using TPW), bypassed the danger and made camp. They missed on Manage Provisions, and now don’t have enough food to make it to the Market and back; a problem to solve down the road.

The TPW hexcrawling moves, and the random tables for Dangers, were solid gold. Even with zero GM prep, and only a small amount of collaborative prep (characters, backgrounds, and the starting map), player choices and the outcomes of moves were all we needed to get things off the ground in an interesting way. The random danger I rolled up, the Shattered Man, will likely become one of the fronts I create before our next session.

Our sessions are short (about two hours), but even with only an hour of in-character play we got a feel for the two PCs and two out of three NPCs, and a feel for Drem Kallow; established a feeling of danger in exploring Bal Acar; introduced a strange entity, the Shattered Man, with a connection to Nus, and collaborated to make him more than just a wandering monster; and came away excited for our next session. It was a blast, and one of the most fun sessions I’ve played as a GM.

There’s a strange alchemy to gaming, and from Greyhawk to the universe of The Expanse (which began as an RPG campaign) settings which have been lived in, filled with the quirks and twists and perfectly odd elements introduced by the groups that have gamed there, are fascinating in part because they’ve been infused with that alchemy through play. It means a lot to me that Godsbarrow is now part of this tradition, and I can’t wait to run more sessions set there.

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Godsbarrow Tabletop RPGs

The Headless Child, Captain of the Endless Fleet

When someone in Godsbarrow dies at sea, the Headless Child lays claim to them.

If they died in sight of their own god, or gods, or if their faith was strong enough, the Child cannot take them. But if not, they join the Endless Fleet,[1] serving its unspeakably cruel captain for eternity.

And the Endless Fleet has but one mission: to bring ruin to all of Godsbarrow, and to the gods who murdered the Headless Child at the dawn of creation and discarded Its corpse into the sea — or abetted those who did, or stayed silent and did nothing.

The Child’s appetite for vengeance is as black and bottomless as the sea, and as endless as Its fleet.

(This post is one of a series about worldbuilding with Worlds Without Number. I’m using the setting-creation approach detailed in Worlds Without Number [paid link], which is a fantastic resource.)

[1]: This idea grew out of the concept of the Black Fleet, in which Klingons who died honorably sail after death, which I first heard about in an early episode of Star Trek: Discovery. I’ve already got a black ship in Godsbarrow — what about an endless fleet, instead? And one in which no one sails voluntarily? And what’s the creepiest captain I can think of for that sort of fleet?

The rest flowed out of a recent session of Follow I played with my online group. We’re playing rather unpleasant gods trying to regain our former glory, and touching on hells and limbos and other unifying cosmological concepts — an area I’ve largely left unexplored in my Godsbarrow work to date.

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Godsbarrow Tabletop RPGs

A year of Godsbarrow worldbuilding

Today marks a year since I started working on Godsbarrow. It’s been a consistently fun process, and even when I’ve banked my creative fires I’ve still done something to make forward progress every single day.

You can find links to all of my Godsbarrow work, loosely organized, on the Godsbarrow handbook page.

Here’s my first Godsbarrow map:

My first map of the Unlucky Isles, done in Worldographer on March 17, 2021

Still a work in progress (as I’m re-drawing four regional maps, adding a fifth, and unifying them all at once), but here’s the map covering everything I’ve developed over the past year:

The current WIP five-region map as of today

It’s safe to say that without Worlds Without Number [paid link] and Wonderdraft, I wouldn’t have gotten anywhere near as far as I have this past year — nor had nearly as much fun.

Assuming I don’t forget to do some Godsbarrow work tomorrow, here’s to day 366 of my worldbuilding streak!

(This post is one of a series about worldbuilding with Worlds Without Number. I’m using the setting-creation approach detailed in Worlds Without Number [paid link], which is a fantastic resource.)

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Godsbarrow Tabletop RPGs

WIP Godsbarrow poster map, 13th anniversary of this site

Work on my first proper multi-region map for Godsbarrow continues apace. All of the settlements and roads are in place, I’ve tweaked a bunch of coastlines and island shapes and whatnot, and the center third has its mountains, fields, and most of its forests done.

Current state of the poster map

I also dialed the white back by 90% in the Ice Courts, and shrank the area of the Abvärwinter in the west. A few rivers have moved, and Ahlsheyan has more settlements now. And of course Middenglum is being worked on along the way. (The little triangle of forts along the Ahlsheyan-Middenglum border has been fun to write up.)

Once I get all of the symbols redrawn — and finish Middenglum — I’ll go back in and touch up the colors, add a scale, and then step back and see how things look. If it all feels right, the final step will be adding a couple hundred labels to the map.

I’m not sure how to add region names, or if I’ll even be able to include them; I still need to wrestle with that one a bit more.

13th anniversary

As of today, martinralya.com has been online for 13 years. (It wasn’t a blog until 2012.) I can’t believe it’s been that long!

2022 will actually bring three anniversaries for this site: the 13th overall; the 10th anniversary for Yore, which launched on August 28, 2012; and the first anniversary for Godsbarrow on March 16th. I guarantee I will forget at least one of them when the day rolls around!

(This post is one of a series about worldbuilding with Worlds Without Number. I’m using the setting-creation approach detailed in Worlds Without Number [paid link], which is a fantastic resource.)

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Godsbarrow Tabletop RPGs

WIP: Turning five maps into one

While I’m creating Godsbarrow region by region, in “tiles” which are more or less square, I’ve also been stitching those tiles together into a larger map. As you can see on that map, it’s full of small and medium problems as a result of this rough-and-ready approach: almost nothing along the tile boundaries lines up perfectly, country names appear several times, roads begin or end at random because I forgot I had a road there on the neighboring regional map, etc.

The “let’s stitch these five maps together” map

And that’s fine! My main goal has been to safeguard my creative energy and preserve my forward momentum, and given that today is just 10 days shy of a year of daily work on Godsbarrow, that approach has been successful.

But I’ve always known there would need to be a cartographic reckoning, and I’ve kind of dreaded how much work it might involve. It hit me this morning that there would be more work if I continued working on the Middenglum map as its own entity, rather than slotting it into the multi-region poster map and finishing it there.

So I did a bit of poking around, found a Reddit post about copying and pasting landmasses, and gave that a shot. Wonderdraft’s polygonal lasso tool allows you to copy a landform on one map file and paste it into another map file, and it preserves any colors you’ve applied to the source landmass.

About 15-20 minutes later, I had this:

The starting point for my finished poster map of Kurthunar, the Unlucky Isles, the Gilded Lands, Middenglum, and the Ice Courts

There’s still lots of work to do, but this approach saved me at least a few hours of painstakingly tracing coastlines. It also affords me a fourfold opportunity, one element of which came as a surprise:

  1. Fix all the issues created by making these maps individually
  2. Settle on a scale
  3. Decide if I still like my mapmaking style
  4. Tweak the landmasses

#1 is covered in this post. #2 is sort of an offshoot of #1, but involves less work. I initially chose a scale that seemed too small, then too large, and then stopped thinking about it and just kept making maps. For a finished poster map, I need a scale. In terms of my mapmaking style, #3, I still like it. I’m obviously not a professional cartographer, but if I bought a book with one of my maps in it I wouldn’t be sad.

Item #4 is what surprised me. Seeing the landmasses with no symbols or labels makes it so clear that I created this map as four squares and a rectangle, and highlights how I got better about making it look more natural and organic later on. The earlier top half, especially my first region, the Unlucky Isles, looks more “squared off” than the bottom half.

There’s nothing sacred about my maps at this stage. Godsbarrow is a world still in development, and I’ve certainly come up with stuff in the past couple months that needs to be taken into account in the write-ups for earlier regions.

Take the Red Flag pirates of Middenglum, for example. Warriors from Kuruni, always looking for a way to prove themselves, would absolutely be raiding the pirate isles of Go Quietly Strait. And the Brundiri navy, despite having its hands full in the Unlucky Isles, needs to patrol the southern Alpan Sea to keep those same pirates at bay. But when I created Brundir and Kuruni, Middenglum and the Red Flag pirates didn’t exist.

That’s Future Martin’s problem, and it’s one I’ve known about from day one. I love the raw fire of creation, just Naruto-running through region after region and keeping that fire stoked — and I know that if I’d started with a blank version of this six-tile poster map, 1) I probably wouldn’t have gotten very far, and 2) even if I did maintain my momentum, it would have felt boring and same-y compared to the weird, vibrant stew of ideas that has emerged by doing it one region at a time.

For the second poster map, once Middenglum is done and I’ve polished the current poster map, I probably will start with a larger blank canvas and fill it in one region at a time. I have a year of experience following the Worlds Without Number approach, and a year of work upon which to build, and I think I can thread the needle of staying loose and creative while also avoiding the need to redo another giant map in 2023.

Updated later in the day to add: Even with the landmasses, water, and colors in place, redrawing all the symbols and paths is slow going. I’ve spent about four hours on this today, and I’ve got all the settlements and roads and about a third of the mountains/hills done.

I believe it’s possible to copy all the symbols on one map and paste them onto another, but only as a sort of “flattened” single image which cannot be edited. While redrawing everything is certainly slower, it also gives me the opportunity to tweak as I go (e.g., I said southern Ahlsheyan was more settled, but didn’t actually have that many towns; let’s add a few).

(This post is one of a series about worldbuilding with Worlds Without Number. I’m using the setting-creation approach detailed in Worlds Without Number [paid link], which is a fantastic resource.)

Categories
Godsbarrow Tabletop RPGs

Middenglum, part 1: overview, geography, nations, and gods

After roughing in the map and concept for my fifth Godsbarrow region, Middenglum, I tucked into doing proper write-ups

Name the region.

Middenglum is the colloquial name for a region which encompasses the lawless, sparsely populated western hinterlands of Ahlsheyan and Myedgrith, which in turn bleed into territory claimed by no nation — Middenglum proper, home to all manner of ne’er-do-wells. Across the Agunune Sea (“AHH-goo-noon”) is an equally sparsely populated section of Kuruni, all but abandoned by the Kurun as it’s so far from Kura’s stomping grounds.

Long ago, the Ahl named this area Mē Dān Gēŋ (“mee dayne geeng”), which means “land of no opportunities” in Ahl. Despite its inviting protected bays, the whole area is so inhospitable and resource-poor than the early Ahl wanted nothing to do with it, and that has largely held true to the present day. Over time, Mē Dān Gēŋ became “Middenglum,” a dreary place full of society’s dregs and cast-offs. Bandits, pirates, fugitives, and scoundrels of all stripes wash up in Middenglum.

It is also, however, a secret “un-nation.” The territory bounded by the mountains on three sides and the sea on the fourth — Middenglum proper — is the birthplace of the null slimes. Null slimes are a species of sentient, psychic oozes, and they most often dwell underground. Most never leave Middenglum proper. But among those who do interact with the wider world are some of the most sinister threats to surface-dwellers in all of Godsbarrow.

Null slimes have no agreed-upon name for their species, and most slimes do not have or use names for themselves. The most prominent deity in null slime culture is the Absence. To worshippers of the Absence, voids of any kind are sacred: the tunnels they leave behind as they burrow beneath the earth, the absence of life caused by murder, the power vacuum created by an assassination, the black caves they hollow out to form subterranean temples.

Null slimes venerate the Absence in different ways. For many, using their bodies’ natural acidic secretions to sculpt holes and voids in rock, or seeking out places where there is no light or sound, are the best way to practice their faith.

But for others, nothing celebrates the Absence like causing voids out in the world. They plot and scheme, manipulating surface-dwellers to collapse governments, start wars, and hollow out people’s faith in their own gods. Middenglum is a perfect base of operations for them: Pirates and cast-offs come and go all the time, and people with little to lose are often more vulnerable to psychic manipulation. A telepathic whisper or two is all it takes to stow a null slime aboard (hiding, for all purposes invisibly, in the bilges) and begin a campaign of bloodshed on the high seas — and beyond.

Choose about six major geographical features.

  • Agunune Sea (“AHH-goo-noon”), notoriously rough, virtually always windy, and prone to long, frequent, and powerful storms
  • Jōkjār Mountains (“JOKE-jayre”), which hem in Middenglum proper on three sides
  • Go Quietly Strait, which connects the Alpan Sea to the north with the Agunune Sea, so named because sailors know it’s best to “go quietly” through the waters around Ghhol lest they draw the bloodthirsty attention of the Ghhola pirates
  • Slljrrn’s Footsteps, the collective name for the scattering of islands off the coast of Middenglum; legend has it that Slljrrn journeyed to the Unlucky Isles across the water, and wherever he paused on his travels an island sprang up from the sea
  • Twin Deaths Pass, which is the easiest way through the Jōkjār Mountains from a geographical standpoint, but actually the hardest way — because if the horrors from the range to your right don’t get you, the horrors descending from the left will
  • Umbreg Forest, a swath of bandit-haunted woodland notable for its sickly trees and poisonous flora and fauna; null slimes have carefully cultivated these woods as a source of deadly toxins, and many of Dormiir’s nastiest poisons originate here

Create six nations or groups of importance.

Middenglum is the heart of this region, and gives the whole area its name. It’s not a nation per se, as it includes portions of Myedgrith and Ahlsheyan — and its original inhabitants, the null slimes, do not use names. Most people, whether inside or outside of Middenglum, don’t know about the null slimes. Middenglum is a place where the dregs of Dormiir wash up, fight amongst themselves, raid neighboring kingdoms, and take to piracy on the high seas. But its true rulers are the null slimes: sentient, psychic oozes who most often dwell underground. Most never leave Middenglum proper. But among those who do interact with the wider world are some of the most sinister threats to surface-dwellers in all of Godsbarrow.

Ghhol (“GUH-holl”) is the largest island off the coast of Middenglum, a wind-lashed place that somehow always smells like vomit and death. Not a nation in any formal sense, it’s the domain of a sprawling extended family of ruthless pirates who bathe in its stinking pools, and whose diet consists of the mutant fish that dwell in the noxious surrounding waters — and the people aboard the ships they scuttle. They worship Ghhole, a titanic eel several miles long who slumbers coiled in the labyrinthine submerged tunnels that honeycomb the island (deep, deep down).

Consuming the polluted seawater in which Ghhole steeps is part of the Ghhola pirates’ religion, and it makes them fearless and bloodthirsty in battle. Anyone can become a Ghhola pirate. Anyone. You just have to be willing to walk the walk, and you’re in. Despicable folks of all species and walks of life wind up here. (Oddly enough, for the very brave and desperate, Ghhol is also an ideal place to hide. Assuming you can stomach living the life of a Ghhola pirate, that is…)

The Red Flag Isles are collectively claimed by the various squabbling clans that all fly the red flag of piracy. In keeping with the rest of Middenglum, this isn’t a nation in any meaningful way. Red Flag pirates prey on shipping through Go Quietly Strait, and often venture south into the Agunune Sea or north into the Unlucky Isles. The only thing they all agree on is avoiding Ghhol.

Binmeque (“binn-MEKK,” no linguistic touchstone) abuts Middenglum proper to the south. The Binme (“binn-MAY”) have learned how to thrive despite their proximity to the dangers on their northern border. The mountains help, but Binme culture is the key: Starting at age four, every Binme is supposed to learn soldiery and a trade, and one’s usefulness to Binmeque is the hallmark of one’s worth. When someone becomes too old or infirm to fight, they learn to perform other military duties: scouting, observation, logistics, cooking, etc. In essence, virtually the entire country of Binmeque is an army, and every soldier is also a farmer, trader, blacksmith, etc. (Like every society in Dormiir, Binmeque isn’t a monoculture; there are Binme who don’t follow the stereotypical “Binme path” in life.)

One avenue to Binmeque’s continued prosperity lies in providing safe passage through Go Quietly Strait to their neighbors to the west and north. Captains heading to or from the Unlucky Isles often hire Binme escort vessels to accompany them, and Binmeque maintains strategic outposts in Middenglum, the Red Flag Isles, and southern Kuruni to facilitate this business. These outposts are incredibly well supplied and defended — which they have to be, because they’re frequently attacked by pirates, monsters, and raiders of all stripes.

The sparsely populated hinterlands of Ahlsheyan, Myedgrith, and Kuruni are also considered part of Middenglum. Including Binmeque, all four nations bordering Middenglum proper have decided that none of them want this territory.

Identify regionally-significant gods.

The most prominent deity in null slime culture is the Absence. To worshippers of the Absence, voids of any kind are sacred: the tunnels they leave behind as they burrow beneath the earth, the absence of life caused by murder, the power vacuum created by an assassination, the black caves they hollow out to form subterranean temples.

The Ghhola pirates worship Ghhol, a titanic eel several miles long who slumbers coiled in the labyrinthine submerged tunnels that honeycomb the island (deep, deep down). Its body pollutes the waters on and around the island of Ghhole, and the tainted water and resulting mutant fish contribute to the depraved bloodthirstiness of the Ghhola pirates.

The pirate clans of the Red Flag Isles hail from all corners of Dormiir, and tend to worship the gods they grew up worshipping (to the extent that they care about gods at all). No god of the sea wants anything to do with the waters in this region, so no one god stands out among the many worshipped here.

The Binme venerate the Fourteen. This pantheon is composed of gender-neutral, human-looking deities whose apparent age ranges from four to a hundred, with none preeminent over the others. Each oversees an aspect of Binme culture, from various martial roles to farming, sailing, and trade. Most Binme feel closest to the members of the Fourteen who represent their chosen trade and military duties, and learning a new trade or martial role later in life brings them closer to new members of the pantheon. Well-made objects and well-grown crops (and so forth) are believed to contain the spark of a member of the Fourteen, so orthodox Binme strive to always produce their best work in the hopes of thereby attracting the divine.

The gods of Myedgrith, Kuruni, and Ahlsheyan are covered in their respective write-ups.

Unlike my recent previous regions, I haven’t mostly finished the next step — the map — at this point, so next up is putting some more elbow grease into cartography.

(This post is one of a series about worldbuilding with Worlds Without Number. I’m using the setting-creation approach detailed in Worlds Without Number [paid link], which is a fantastic resource.)

Categories
Godsbarrow Tabletop RPGs

Roughing in Middenglum, my fifth Godsbarrow region

After wrapping up my fourth region, the Ice Courts, I wasn’t sure what to work on next. I slept on it and decided to fill in the blank tile on my poster-size map.

Growing up on TSR box sets, with their gorgeous rectangular poster maps, I couldn’t resist the urge to finish out a map that shape of my own. So I started my next write-up, fired up Wonderdraft, created an all-water tile to work with, and started roughing things in.

Long ago, the Ahl named this area Mē Dān Gēŋ (“me dayne geeng”), which means “land of no opportunities” in Ahl. Despite its inviting protected bays, the whole area is so inhospitable and resource-poor than the early Ahl wanted nothing to do with it, and that has largely held true to the present day. Over time, Mē Dān Gēŋ became “Middenglum,” a dreary place full of society’s dregs and cast-offs. Bandits, pirates, fugitives, and scoundrels of all stripes wash up in Middenglum.

Middenglum as of February 19, 2022

It took me a few days to get the landmasses and their coastlines right, and my initial concept of Middenglum evolved along with them — which is one of my favorite things about this type of lonely fun. Once I knew I was filling in my poster map, I looked at all of my favorite fantasy stuff and saw that most of it was on that map: dwarves, gnomes, mushroom people, werewolves, wintery places, sword and sorcery weirdness, non-Tolkien elves, and plenty of squabbling nations, intrigue, and skullduggery.

But one thing was missing: slimes. I adore D&D-style oozes, slimes, gelatinous cubes (my favorite D&D monster), molds, and the like.

So Middenglum is the birthplace and homeland of the null slimes, a species of sentient, psychic oozes who most often dwell underground. Most never leave Middenglum proper. But among those who do interact with the wider world are some of the most sinister threats to surface-dwellers in all of Godsbarrow.

Longtime readers may remember null slimes from Bleakstone, the fantasy setting I started developing here on Yore some years back. Like other elements of Bleakstone, they’re an idea I quite like that needs a little refinement. With a few tweaks, they’ll fit right into Godsbarrow.

The map will probably change (I like the strong Mordor energy of those mountains, but right now they look a bit too engineered), and the regional overview still isn’t in its final form — but Middenglum is well underway.

(This post is one of a series about worldbuilding with Worlds Without Number. I’m using the setting-creation approach detailed in Worlds Without Number [paid link], which is a fantastic resource.)

Categories
Godsbarrow Tabletop RPGs

The Ice Courts, part 4: national relationships and wants

The final region-level step in Worlds Without Number [paid link] is to define the relationships between nations and one thing each of them wants from each of the others. Because of the sheer number of things I have to create, this step usually takes me longer than the others.

The Ice Courts region

If you want to read the rest of the Ice Courts material, or check out anything else about the world of Dormiir, the Godsbarrow handbook collects everything I’ve created for this setting.

Define the relationships between the groups.

Even though Lonþyr and Yrfeđe are more concerned with affairs in their own region (the Gilded Lands), they have a foot in the Ice Courts as well. This is primarily because of their proximity to the Courts and the tendency of two of those Courts (Ahlsheyan and Zull Pyrendi) to exert their power on the sea which separates the Ice Courts from the Gilded Lands.

Ahlsheyan

  • Valkenschirm: It’s complicated. Ahlsheyan has one foot in the Ice Courts and things are better in that region thanks to Valkenschirm’s strength, but Ahlsheyan is also part of the Unlucky Isles and has a toehold in Kurthunar, too. As such, the decision to assassinate Abäschern, while popular in the south, also froze a sizeable portion of Ahlsheyan in perpetual winter — so sentiments in the rest of the country are mixed.
    • Want: Though it is a state secret of the highest order, Ahlsheyan wants to relocate Abäschern’s corpse — at a minimum, further south; ideally far, far away. They don’t know if this will end the Abvärwinter (many think it will have no effect), but it’s worth a shot. Done openly, this would plunge the Ice Courts into war. But is there a way to do it in secret?
  • Skølprene: There’s something wrong here, but we’re not sure what it is. The Harmony isn’t what it seems, but why does no one say that? Rule by one is inferior to rule by a triumvirate.
    • Want: To goad Skølprene into war against Valkenschirm, leaving it open to annexation by Ahlsheyan — and bringing the Harmony down several pegs in the process.
  • Myedgrith: Insufferably pretentious and decadent, with weak ambitions that don’t reach beyond the Ice Courts, but useful as a foil against the other Ice Courts getting too powerful.
    • Want: To goad Myedgrith into war against Valkenschirm, which would destabilize the Ice Courts and give Ahlsheyan an opportunity to annex the northern reaches of Valkenschirm and Skølprene.
  • Zull Pyrendi: A potential ally, if it weren’t for all the piracy. Both Ahl and Zull are at home underground and in dark places, so there’s a peculiar natural kinship there.
    • Want: To broker a “no piracy” treaty with as many of the Zull colonies as possible. The Ahl would love to tap the Zull’s expertise in cultivating mushrooms (which the dwarves grow in vast quantities), and can offer the Zull safe, warm underground homes for expansion.
  • Lonþyr: Pretenders to the waves and exploiters of the stone. Rotting from within. Fat on stolen wealth.
    • Want: To gut Lonþyr from within by way of supplying weapons, armor, food, and other resources to the Grshniki gnomes. This operation has been ongoing for a decade, and is at a crucial inflection point: a Lon naval vessel captured an Ahl smuggling ship, but not before they sent word via messenger bird. Do we hang them out to dry, preserving the larger effort, or double down and declare war against Lonþyr? Or is there a third way?
  • Yrfeđe: Every realm is an opportunity, and the Yr have much to trade — and many folks who might want to leave, if offered an opportunity in Ahlsheyan. Perhaps not an ally, but they could be.
    • Want: To recruit a troupe of renowned beast-hunters, the Aewll Cardurh, to participate as “honorary Ahl” in the next Hühneraar. They move around a lot, they don’t like outsiders, they’re technically not even for hire…what could go wrong?

Valkenschirm

  • Ahlsheyan: Somewhat aloof from the rest of the Ice Courts, yet also the source of much of the food and survival expertise on which we all rely. Steadfast and reliable.
    • Want: To annex a largely uninhabited portion of southern Ahlsheyan. The Valken don’t understand why the Ahl care, and the Ahl don’t understand why the Valken a) want it and b) think they should get it. A stubborn martial power vs. magically enhanced werewolves is a recipe for disaster.
  • Skølprene: Corpse-worshippers, blinkered by their adoration for the Hated One. Insufferable at parties. But skilled at the Great Hunt, and therefore demanding a certain amount of respect.
    • Want: The last Great Hunt winner was a pack from Skølprene, and one of the most hardline noble houses in Valkenschirm wants them dead so it won’t happen again. They’re not concerned about the political fallout (although they should be), but even so there’s a practical issue: How do you assassinate a pack of werewolves powerful enough to beat dozens of other packs in a region-wide display of martial prowess and hunting skills?
  • Myedgrith: A rival we greatly enjoy needling. All pretentiousness and no bite. Still weak enough to want gods in their lives.
    • Want: Resentment at the size of the area Myedgrith-to-be seized during the chaos after Abäschern’s death has simmered in Valkenschirm ever since. A decade-long plan is about to come to fruition, one involving six Valken noble families, two mercenary companies, and a fifth column of Valken spies who have lived in Myedgrith since the plan was first hatched. It’s simple: a week of bloody assassinations and uprisings in border holdings, and Valkenschirm swoops in with werewolf shock troops to claim a vast swath of what is now Myedgrith.
  • Zull Pyrendi: A strange people. But they feed everyone, and their weird islands are always warm and hospitable. And, despite being mushrooms, they somehow play the game of intrigue excruciatingly well — in their alien manner — and can even throw a surprisingly good masquerade ball. A conundrum.
    • Want: To build the first embassy on a Zull island, something the Zull have hitherto not allowed. Valkenschirm has no idea what to offer the Zull, and the Zull don’t want the embassy and so have little interest in telling them. The current plan within the Valken government is to cause a problem in Zull territory that only the Valken can solve, and use that as leverage. Once built, the embassy’s primary mission would be spying on the Zull.
  • Lonþyr: There’s something wrong with this place, something that troubles our senses. But we can’t tell what. It’s probably best that they’re an ocean away.
    • Want: For Lonþyr to never become a seagoing power. The simplest path is to keep them occupied with their troubles in the mountains, and with their neighbors. So Valkenschirm has created cadres of werewolf spies who pose as đargnr, and as Grshniki, to keep the pressure on Lonþyr from those two fronts.
  • Yrfeđe: So low-class as to be almost entirely beneath our notice. We killed a god, but they can’t even kill some tree-shadows?
    • Want: The one thing the Yr do well is brew brightmead, a naturally luminescent beverage that makes you feel warm and happy and melts your troubles away — and which also glows. Several noble houses in Valkenschirm are competing to establish a dedicated brewery-and-port combo in Yrfeđe, ensuring that they will then be able to throw the best parties.

Skølprene

  • Ahlsheyan: Generous with the fruits of their ingenuity and labors, and therefore a friend. (And, for those in the know, a potential victim.) But also powerful…too powerful.
    • Want: To assassinate one member of Ahlsheyan’s ruling triumvirate, and then take advantage of the ensuing time of instability in various ways. The assassination will appear to be an accident; Skølen warriors, materiel, and spies are already hidden along the border, waiting for the signal to sneak into Skølprene.
  • Valkenschirm: They control the Holy Vessel — Abäschern’s corpse — that rightfully belongs in Skølprene, so tensions tend to run high. But Valkenschirm is also canonically the Holy Seat of Abäschern in life, so there’s reverence as well. It’s complicated, and it makes for lots of skullduggery at parties.
    • Want: Rumors of the existence of the Paw of Abäschern, torn from His holy body (all evidence of which is hidden by his tomb), have persisted since Abäschern’s death. Skølprene has learned that it’s being held in a secret vault beneath a manor in the capital, and they’re going to obtain it at any cost.
  • Myedgrith: The opposite of all that we are. But also basically cousins, so it’s complicated.
    • Want: To annex a portion of Myedgrith along their shared border. A secret alliance has been made between Skølprene and three Myedine noble houses with border holdings. The houses plan to become preeminent in Skølprene; Skølprene plans to roll them into the Church and then eye another expansion to the south.
  • Zull Pyrendi: A longstanding staunch ally. The history of that alliance is centuries old, and it’s enshrined in church doctrine.
    • Want: To establish a major temple on one of the Zull islands, and more broadly to use that local foothold to spread the message of the Harmonious and Celestial Abäschern. At a god-colony level, most Zull know this faith makes no sense — and besides, they’re gods in their own right. But turning down a staunch ally isn’t easy…
  • Lonþyr: A wealthy nation with its hands full, ripe for the plucking (if woefully uncultured).
    • Want: As in neighboring Yrfeđe, to seed the land with Harmonic Temples. Look how excited your bitter rival is to welcome our faith! You wouldn’t want to be left out in the cold, would you?
  • Yrfeđe: Theirs is a dark place, and ours is a god of celestial light. They need us to ease their suffering. And relieve them of their wealth.
    • Want: To build a Harmonic Temple in every major settlement in Yrfeđe. These cheerful, brightly lit, surprisingly defensible church buildings will be an easy sell for many Yr communities.

Myedgrith

  • Ahlsheyan: Vexing. They have less at stake than the other Ice Courts, with so much occupying them elsewhere. Yet they supply much of our food, warmth, and trade goods. They’re so sturdy and useful…but also irritatingly good at intrigue, often without appearing to be.
    • Want: To intermarry the most politically powerful families in these two nations, bringing them closer together — and, if all goes well, giving the alliance leverage against the Ice Courts nations which sit between them.
  • Valkenschirm: Because Myedgrith is so decentralized, there are really many relationships with Valkenschirm. The most common revolve around hating that Valkenschirm is the center of everything (while refusing to acknowledge that), hating that they’re the best and most werewolf-y (ditto), and reveling in showing them up at every opportunity.
    • Want: The Black Pelts want Abäschern’s corpse relocated to Myedgrith, where they can worship it in the manner it deserves. Diplomatically, this is a non-starter — so the Black Pelts plan to steal it, instead. Whether they succeed or get caught and fail, this would likely start a war with Valkenschirm.
  • Skølprene: They could worship any god in the world, and they chose…that? They could hunt and run and mingle with the best of the best, and they chose…that? Baffling. Yet for all that, irritatingly good at courtly intrigue.
    • Want: To convince Skølprene to build its largest, grandest cathedral in Myedgrith, and then stretch out the construction endlessly and see how long it takes them to figure out we’re just messing with them.
  • Zull Pyrendi: Mushrooms cannot possibly belong in high society, therefore we shall pretend Zull Pyrendi does not exist. Except when we import all that food from them. And when they show up at parties with all the best psychedelic drugs. And when having trysts with mushroom-people is in fashion this season.
    • Want: A prominent Myedine noble family wants to forge a bond with a Zull colony through intermarriage. The colony objects; some among the Myedine family object, as well. But the betrothed do not, and their union could change politics in the Ice Courts in dramatic ways.
  • Lonþyr: It’s cute how they try to pretend to be real nobles. Why haven’t they killed their gods yet, or learned how to throw a proper masquerade ball? We’re also jealous of how unspeakably wealthy Lonþyr is, though.
    • Want: A joint mining operation in the Mormú-Hús Mountains, with the Myedine providing muscle and the Lon doing the mining, and profits split down the middle.
  • Yrfeđe: Who? Oh, those peasants. We bet they don’t even know what the seventeenth fork in a formal table setting is for. So far beneath our notice that we’ve never learned how to pronounce the name of their silly country.
    • Want: An especially dumb Myedine noble family wants to capture a đargnr (whatever that is) to exhibit at their next grand ball. This is a terrible idea that will almost certainly be farmed out to adventurers.

Zull Pyrendi

  • Ahlsheyan: Many find us strange; only a few do not, and the Ahl are among them. A bit uncultured, but fierce and strong on the seas. Looting their ships is always a challenge.
    • Want: The Zull want to start a new full-scale colony (a fruiting god-fungus hivemind) on the mainland, and since the colony needs to be kept reasonably warm that makes Ahlsheyan the logical choice. The fungal council is divided over two things: whether to colonize the Orman-čaj in the colder southern region, which would place them closer to the Ice Courts, or in the warmer northern reaches, giving them a foothold in the Unlucky Isles; and whether to do this in secret or through diplomacy.
  • Valkenschirm: Pompous pricks, but also fellow hunters. It’s complicated. The Zull cannot be, or become, werewolves, so there’s plenty of resentment for the culture of werewolf nobility in the region, and especially in Valkenschirm.
    • Want: The Zull have never won the Hühneraar, the Great Hunt (although they’ve had respectable showings), and several of the colonies are determined to win the next one. This would be so unprecedented as to risk souring diplomatic relations with Valkenschirm.
  • Skølprene: They worship the husk of a dead god and call it virtuous. But they always want to help, to donate, to be generous with their time and wealth. Baffling.
    • Want: To infiltrate the Church hierarchy using mind-clouding spores. A party of Zull diplomats, themselves spore-emitters, will secretly include several assassin-spies. The latter will disperse spores that allow them to remotely “view” Church locations, use spore-based mind reading to learn the Church’s secrets, and otherwise clandestinely commit acts of war.
  • Myedgrith: Everything about this place is confusing to us. Yet we can’t deny that their masquerades and balls and ceremonial activities are strangely compelling.
    • Want: To throw a masquerade ball that outdoes the best Myedgrith can offer. There is currently much confusion among the Zull about how best to do this, but consensus on it being a unified effort with all of the colonies contributing.
  • Lonþyr: A rich but prickly target for piracy. The Zull find that piracy against fellow Ice Courts is complicated, but pillaging a wealthy country across the Greatwater has few local consequences. Lonþyr has a navy, but its martial focus is to the north, fighting the Grshniki gnomes; until that changes, the Zull will continue to see it as prey.
    • Want: To sink their entire navy. With enough of the Zull god-colonies cooperating — not a given! — this is something they could achieve in a single season of especially ferocious piracy.
  • Yrfeđe: A ripe target for plunder, with a navy too sparse and weak to make them a threat. Fun to antagonize.
    • Want: The Zull are curious if bioluminescent fungus can keep the đargnr at bay, so they’ve quietly introduced several species to Yrfeđe’s southern reaches. If the fungus does the trick, Zull diplomats intend to propose that they be granted a large colony along the coast in exchange for supplies of the fungus, essentially carving off a piece of Yrfeđe that would become Zull territory.

Lonþyr

  • Ahlsheyan: A sleeping giant, fortunately too consumed by regional problems to turn its eye on Lonþyr. If Ahlsheyan ever decided to invade Lonþyr, or even just blockade it by sea, the outcome would be utter devastation for Lonþyr.
    • Want: The nobility craves works of art to show their status, and Ahl artwork is renowned throughout Dormiir. A noble family has their sights set on the last piece produced by the now-deceased artist Urug Yula, a giant obelisk that took 150 years to reach its current perfect, environmentally-shaped state. Beloved throughout Ahlsheyan, this piece is not for sale.
  • Valkenschirm: A whole country of werewolves? Keep those fucking beasts as far away from us as possible, just in case that’s actually true.
    • Want: An accurate threat assessment of just how dangerous Valkenschirm actually is to Lonþyr. To that end they’ve deployed a sentient artifact under the government’s command to spy on the Valken courts: the Carriage of Venom. Lonþyr unearthed the Carriage from beneath the mountains, and while the artifact has sworn to obey the Lon it’s also quite dangerous. It can change its shape, and can dispatch shapeshifting automatons from within its interior (which is never seen). It has no scent, so the theory is that werewolves won’t be able to detect it.
  • Skølprene: Peace-loving, weak, and weird. Not a threat, and apparently uninterested in the politics of the Gilded Lands, so of no consequence.
    • Want: It gets cold in Lonþyr, and the wealthy prize heatsones from the Ice Courts. Several Lon families have offered missionaries and other church emissaries from Skølprene land for churches and embassies in exchange for heatstones, not recognizing the threat that the Celestial Harmony poses.
  • Myedgrith: Insufferable, but secretly much of Lonþyr’s upper class wishes they were as cool as the Myedine. Myedgrith, despite being icebound, does “high society” so well that it makes Lonþyr look like a cultural backwater.
    • Want: Heatstones. The Lon nobility has heard rumors Yrfeđe already has one, and now nothing but having two — or better, dozens — will do. Like Yrfeđe, Lonþyr doesn’t realize wars have been fought in the Ice Courts over heatstones. The price will be high, to say the least.
  • Zull Pyrendi: A strange place full of pirates who like nothing better than preying on Lonþyran ships and coastal villages. Fortunately, they’re far enough away that they can otherwise largely be ignored.
    • Want: To convince Zull pirates to prey on Yrfeđe instead of plaguing Lonþyr. Money might work, but Lonþyr is first going to offer to assassinate one or more targets in the Ice Courts on behalf of Zull Pyrendi. A clandestine “diplomatic” mission team has already been assembled.

Yrfeđe

  • Ahlsheyan: A potential ally against the đargnr (due to their expertise in surviving in darkness), but we don’t have much to offer them — so, neutral.
    • Want: To recruit elite Ahl tunnel fighters to join the Yr and Grshniki forces currently battling the đargnr beneath the Gilded Lands.
  • Valkenschirm: We have a healthy respect for wild creatures, so a country of werewolves earns our respect. But they also have time for fancy dress and parties and whatnot? That place must be strange.
    • Want: For the winner of the next Great Hunt to come here and hunt đargnr. This is the sort of complex, dangerous, time-consuming, open-ended problem Yrfeđe would love to hire adventurers to solve.
  • Skølprene: Their god (or “god”) makes no sense. But they’re stuck in the snow; we’re stuck in the shadows. Maybe they have something to offer us?
    • Want: Priests from Skølprene have told anyone who will listen that the Harmonious and Celestial Abäschern will save Yrfeđe from all manner of ills. This is tempting enough that some Yr want the Church to prove it by building a grand temple in Yrfeđe
  • Myedgrith: Neutral. We have little contact with them, and all the rumors we hear about Valkenschirm seem to go for Myedgrith as well.
    • Want: Heatstones. A Yr noble purchased one from a Zull smuggler, and word of this wonder — which would be welcome during Yrfeđe’s cold winter nights — has spread far and wide. Now the Yr want more, not realizing that wars have been fought in the Ice Courts over the disposition of relatively small numbers of heatstones.
  • Zull Pyrendi: Neutral. Yrfeđe’s minimal coastline and general lack of wealth mean it’s not an attractive target for Zull pirates, and Yrfeđe is too bound up with local problems to worry much about what’s going on across the Greatwater.
    • Want: Some Yr speculate that the properties of the various Zull fungi might be able to consume the đargnr by rotting out the creatures’ homes and swallowing them whole. They want to secure the Zull’s aid in their fight, and they’ll do whatever it takes — up to and including letting the Zull found a new fungus colony in Yrfeđe.

At the moment I’m not sure what’s next for Godsbarrow, but since I work on it every day I will have to pick something by tomorrow! I’ve got a Godsbarrow side project underway that I might move back onto the front burner. The other low-hanging fruit would be to pick a map edge and start a new region — probably either the blank map tile in the current big map, or someplace north of the Gilded Lands and/or the Unlucky Isles.

(This post is one of a series about worldbuilding with Worlds Without Number. I’m using the setting-creation approach detailed in Worlds Without Number [paid link], which is a fantastic resource.)