Thursday, October 31, 2019

Mighty Man (Class: Specialist)

    Knowledge of the digging of ditches, the hewing of forests, the laying of stones in roads and the building of structures was one of the first gifts given to man by the g_ds. Timotheos, dark-haired third brother, taught these skills to his chosen peoples to protect them from the dangerous world he had created.

    All civilized people have a basic understanding of these skills. Some specialize, and a culture will have a preferred building style, but anyone can dig a hole or chop a small tree. A small team, especially one led by a competent builder, can dig and hew and mold the earth into a camp in a few hours. Many hands makes for exponentially lighter labor.

    Some people don't need a team at all.

Barbarians in the frozen south, civilized men in the temperate north.
    You are a member of a chalcolithic pagan tribe called the "Builders". You were brought to the civilized world (the world of crop rotation, dressed stone and iron) to perform hard manual labor. It's possible you were a slave or a prisoner of war, but most likely you were lured by the promise of riches — your tribe has a legendary weakness for precious metal and stones.

    At home your people worshiped an ancient being you called the "Old Man in the Ice". The Old Man dictates that his worshipers be scarified with knives and burning mistletoe, and makes bizarre demands in the darkness of their minds. The lands of the Builders are littered with impressive but abandoned structures and riddled with half-collapsed mines.

    The civilized folk thought this to be the limit of your magic and your use; but a few decades ago, with the redevelopment of furnace technology, ironmongery became widespread and a boss thought to place an iron tool into a Builder's hands. It was then that they discovered either a holy secret of Timotheos, or else a strange oversight in your design. . .

Class: Builder

    You are a Builder; a barbarian valued as manual labor. Your people are a common sight around major engineering projects or in large cities. Your abilities are far above those of normal humanity, and are further increased with weird and mystical effects when wielding iron tools.

    For every template you have of this class you gain +1 Stealth. If you have at least one template of Builder you cannot fumble with weapons you are holding in two hands. You cannot wear medium or heavy armor unless a template from another class allows you.

    If you die, you do not rise from the dead unless at the pleasure of the Old Man.

Skills: 1. Fishing, 2. Knapping, 3. Psychotropic Brewing

Starting Equipment: Workman's clothes, a felling axe (medium weapon), your choice of trenching shovel, mattock or sledge (see below for equipment list), an iron collar identifying you as a foreigner, a low voice in your head which whispers to you constantly, and one other piece of gear of your choice.

  • A Steel-Driven, Foreigner, +1 HP
  • B Ploughman's Lunch, +1 To-Hit
  • C Old Man's Eye, +1 HP
  • D Strength of Many, +1 To-Hit
    You naturally excel at all forms of construction, landscaping and earthmoving.  For example:
  • A human can fell a tree very fast with a good axe. A Builder can chop a tree down in one minute per foot of diameter
  • A human can dig a full-sized grave in perhaps eight hours; a Builder can dig that in four.
  • When erecting a structure, each Builder counts as two human workers. This is a general rule which should be applied to any engineering project.
    There is, in addition, a fell passion that sometimes grips members of your pagan rite. While holding an iron tool in your hands you can choose to enter a wild frenzy. Roll 2d6. If you roll a pair of 2's, 3's or 4's you suffer an Accident, and if you roll snake-eyes you suffer a Catastrophe.
Those in the grip of the frenzy move at double speed for the duration and finish their tasks in half the time. Frenzied characters make an extra attack in combat, but gain a slot of exhaustion every time they do so. The frenzy ends after one hour or immediately upon becoming encumbered. It has a 2-in-6 chance of ending immediately after taking damage from any source.
    You can enter the frenzy as many times per day as you have Builder templates.

    Noble and academic types, who don't work with their hands, find you amusing. Farmers and gravediggers find you jaw-dropping, and extended projects may draw crowds of cheering onlookers or local strongmen to challenge you.

    Your accent, your rations and your stride indicate that you hail from the half-savage frozen wastelands of the south. Some non-player characters will be offended by or afraid of you, while others may be eager to hear your stories and then hire you to build a dam. Concealing your identity by wearing a huge black cloak and refusing to speak will actually make people more suspicious, but you can still try it.

    Obviously this is only true in the civilized world. If adventuring in the half-savage frozen wastelands of the south, assume that you have a 4-in-6 chance of being recognized as an enemy in any town or camp. Barbarians kill people wearing huge black cloaks on sight.

Ploughman's Lunch
    Your natural stamina lets you recover quickly. When you take a Lunch, you also lose two slots of exhaustion. If you consume a ration immediately before entering your frenzy you reduce your chances of suffering an Accident by 1. A quart of small beer or a half-cup of hard liquor counts as a ration for you.

Old Man's Eye
    Your success has drawn the attention of the Old Man, who claimed your soul as an infant with a series of rituals, culminating in the tattooing of one of his eyes upon your chest. He has watched you through that eye for your entire life, first idly, but now with interest. You are ready to help him achieve his goals.

     Agents of the Old Man are given strange tasks which they must fulfill or suffer two consequences; first, you lose the good grace of your g_d and will rise from the dead like everyone else, and second, every time you enter your frenzy you have a 2-in-6 chance of losing your mind for 1d6 rounds and making wild attacks against random targets. The Old Man isn't cursing you, he is simply withdrawing his stabilizing presence from a body not adapted to Chaos. Fulfilling his requests earns eldritch favor, which takes many forms.

    The Old Man typically gives out his quests on the new moon, though of course he has no obligation to you whatsoever and can give them out whenever he feels like. A few examples:

Unpleasant Tasks:

  1. Go to a certain valley, a few days travel from where you received this task, and dig a deep well. It must be at least one-hundred feet deep by the next new moon. It doesn't need to be lined with stone, but it does need to be at least five feet across and at most twenty (a flooded quarry is not a well).
  2. Make a burnt offering to the Old Man and host a wild celebration. You will need at least twenty human party guests (Unburied don't count, but Cobolds might). You will also need to keep a fire burning all night and sacrifice either five horses, ten cows, twenty-five sheep or fifty birds. This must be completed by the next new moon
  3. You must build a bridge over the next river you come to at the point where you reach it. It must be able to hold at least your weight, and if it collapses or is left uncompleted before the next new moon then you have failed.
  4. Find and kill an exceptionally dangerous Cobold in an abandoned mine, about five days travel from where you received this task. She is guarded by 2d4 of her fellows and knows a single random cleric spell which she casts with one die. This must be completed by the next new moon.
  5. Fulfill the next request made of you by a non-player character. You can negotiate for pay, but you must complete it according to their specifications. Smart Builders make a habit of cutting off the fingers of those who ask them for free labor, to keep people from thinking they might get lucky.
  6. Find seven metal spoons and swallow them one after the other. Pass a constitution save or take a point of damage next time you, you know...

Strange Rewards:

  1. Until the next new moon, you are invisible when you close your eyes and stay perfectly still. You may need to make a constitution check to maintain stillness for more than a minute or so.
  2. Until the next new moon, your face is different. Someone who has only seen you, or only spoken to you briefly, will be unable to recognize you. At the next new moon, save or the change is permanent.
  3. You gain +1 HP. Each time you roll this result, another tattoo appears on your skin. After three increases you must wear heavy clothing to conceal the eye, and after six they cover your face.
  4. Your teeth grow 1d4 centimeters. At five centimeters extra they limit your ability to speak. These can be filed down to normal(ish), or to sharp points which horrify non-player characters.
  5. Your body feels strangely unsteady, as if you are newly made. Old scars fade and heal. Until the next new moon your chance of rolling an Accident is reduced by 1.
  6. You are filled with an unspeakable and horrible hunger to be drunk. Until the next new moon you heal 1 HP when you drink at least a quart of small beer or a half-cup of liquor.

Strength of Many
    At will, roll 2d6 and add that number to any strength related roll of a twenty-sided die. The higher number is inflicted to you as damage. You experience a rush of energy and an awful pain in your chest when you use this feature; people nearby notice rising temperatures and the smell of burning hair.


  1. Shooting pain. Take 1 point of damage and drop what you are holding.
  2. Too much grip; you shatter the handle of your tool as your tendons spasm. You can craft a suitable handle in an hour if you have the lumber, or replace it in five minutes if you have a spare.
  3. Strange energies; the edge of the tool dulls as the iron evaporates. You can file down or sharpen it in half an hour's work with a whetstone. Hammers are unaffected.
  4. Too little grip. Everyone within 15 feet makes a wisdom save to duck; worst result takes 1 point of damage. If no one is within 15 feet, the tool flies off and it takes you ten minutes to find it.
  5. Mind the backswing! The tool twists in your hands like a snake. You take 1d6 damage, or apply it to someone within 5 feet of you.
  6. Six-second blackout. Your tool is ruined beyond repair; the splintered stump of handle has teeth marks on it. If someone is nearby they didn't see anything either and you can't make them admit otherwise.


  1. Minor heart attack. You drop what you are holding and can do nothing but clutch your chest and wince for 1d6 rounds. 
  2. Major heart attack. You are reduced to 0 health and black out. Your strength and constitution scores are both reduced by 2; you heal one point of stat loss with a night of rest or six with a Restoration spell.
  3. The Big One. Your heart ruins itself. This is lethal if you still need a heart.
You are immune to catastrophes if you don't have, or don't need, a heart. A casting of Greater Restoration reduces the severity by one.

And now, the Gear:

From Frank Leslie's Popular Monthly, "The Cheapest Magazine in the World"
  1. Felling Axe. Effective tool for cutting down men as well. Medium weapon.
  2. Trenching Shovel. Long blade-like head, for drainage ditches and such. Makes an excellent lever. Medium, but can't be used effectively in one hand.
  3. Mattock. A pickaxe with a spike on one side and a flat cutting or digging blade on the other. Essential tool of gravediggers. Medium, but can't be used effectively in one hand.
  4. Sledge. Tool of wreckers and rock-breakers. About three times too heavy to be a warhammer. Large weapon, but suffers a -2 to-hit and deals +2 damage.
  5. Tongs. Good for handling hot metal, poking at traps and holding steel spikes in place while someone else hits them with a sledge. Counts as a light weapon.
  6. Black Powder. Comes in horns or kegs, you have a horn of it. The keg is probably as dangerous as a Fireball. 1 or 10 slots.
  7. Crowbar. Good for prying, acts as a light weapon.
  8. Hammer, sheath of 10 iron nails. 1 slot each.
  9. A hand drill with a six-inch bit. Can make a hole in sedimentary rock in five minutes and igneous in half an hour. 1 slot.
  10. 40 feet of iron chain, 2 slots.
  11. 50 feet of rope, 1 slot.
  12. Brick hod. Holds 5 slots, must held in two hands. You could also use this as a scoop or to boost people up ledges.
  13. Throwing Sword, light weapon, throwable 20 feet. Returns to your hand if it doesn't hit anything; if you throw such that it collides with your enemy on the return trip, it hits them at the start of next round and you have advantage on the attack roll.
  14. Big smelly sack of ermine skins. Worth 5 gold per day's travel to the nearest port. 5 slots.
  15. Blacksign Toadstools, three doses. Roll 1d6 and that ability score is inverted (11 -> 9, 7 -> 13, 10 -> 10). Effects last until you get a night of sleep.
  16. Seagold gloves. Crafted from the flesh of a rare deep sea creature by a witch-woman of your homeland. Unarmed attacks deal full damage to the undead.
  17. Hair bleach, three doses. Also works on beards, fur and most woods. Very poisonous.
  18. Come-along stick. Solid iron ten-foot-pole. Heavy. 4 slots.
  19. Atlatl, as shortbow +1. Uses javelins instead of arrows (javelins are three to a slot). 1 slot.
  20. A weird or inexplicable curio. Roll 1d6:
    • 1. Human skull with three eye sockets.
    • 2. Bar of adamant. In theory, a priceless artifact. In practice, an indestructible paperweight. 1 slot.
    • 3. Skin of mares-blood liquor. Powerful emetic, unless you like mare's blood liquor. 1 slot.
    • 4. An arrow. The shaft, head, fletching are all gold. Worth 15 gold to a collector in good condition. If you fire it, it always deals full damage +2 but is reduced to 5 gold worth of scrap on a fumbled attack.
    • 5. Priest mask, yellow serpent — heresy! 
    • 6. Golden anklet-bells. Their cheery sound can be heard for miles by the undead, who hate it and will risk destruction to end their ringing.

Saturday, October 26, 2019

Gun On Your Shoulder (Class: Fighter)

Inspired by a discussion in the OSR Discord.
Source: Wikipedia
    A simple axiom of the universe; things which are better at surviving live, and things which are worse die. This evolutionary pressure is constantly applied to every population. Warfare, especially the messy kind predating antibiotics and painkillers, is a very strong evolutionary pressure on a population (young soldiers) already selected for competence and fighting ability.
    Some people think this is evil. War is a terrible thing, they say, and death a cruel joke played on Man by callous g_ds. They scoff at the glory-ardent, and jeer at the old lie of "Dulce et decorum est/pro patria mori".
    Not you, though. You understand.

Class: Zouave

    You are a Zouave, light infantry trained for ambush, scouting and extended periods in the field. You are not a noble, but neither are you a peasant levy. You volunteered to protect your homeland. You provided your own equipment, learned the art of war, rose through the ranks, became a cunning veteran, seized victory in battles where you were outnumbered 20-to-1, shaped the face of the world with nothing but your sword-arm and sturdy snapchance — and then you won, and the war was over.
    Most of your friends are turnip farmers or fishermen now, or dead. You tried the peaceful life. Maybe you even stuck with it for a few years; but when you realized the only thing you looked forward to was sharing half-true war-stories with the old men in the tavern, you took your sword and your gun down from the wall and set out on your last adventure

    For every template you have in this class you gain +1 inventory slot and +1 HP. If you have at least one template of Zouave, you cannot fumble with mundane weapons and can wear light and medium armor.

Skills: 1. Forestry, 2. Rock-Climbing, 3. Ditchdigging

Starting Equipment: Slightly ridiculous old-fashioned uniform (as leather), an iron ringsword (medium), a snapchance and powderhorn (see below for equipment list), good pair of boots, excellent backpack, one other piece of kit of your choice.

  • A Tall Tales, Nonplussed, Extra Attack Per Round
  • B Respect
  • C Old Friends, Extra Attack Per Round
  • D Nose for Trouble
Tall Tales
You've been everywhere, man. Roll 3d12 on the following table of mostly-true things you did before becoming an adventurer and record the results. If you roll the same result twice, take your choice of the one above or below.
  1. Crossed the Deserts Bare. Your long campaign took you as far as the frozen mud-puddle of Arel, where trees never grow and people wear stupid coats all year round. A six-month guerilla campaign against a vastly superior force of manhunters taught you the value of good boots and warm wool socks.

    You and your party travel at full speed over rough terrain.

  2. Breathed the Mountain Air. Your long campaign wound through the mountains and over steep peaks. You developed an instinct for avalanches and rockslides, and learned the ways of the goat and the warg.

    You and your party travel over normally impassable terrain as if it were rough.

  3. Travelled Every Road in This Here Land. Your long campaign took you... everywhere, really.

    You can read roadsigns in any language, and you and your party move 1.5x as fast when on actual roads.

  4. Hunted the Dead in the Hills. During one part of your campaign, your unit was tasked with cleaning out Unburied-infested ghost towns which threatened your supply lines. This was treacherous work, and you still have nightmares about an encounter with a cobold in the cellar of a church.

    You can smell a human corpse from two hundred feet. If you stay perfectly still for a full minute, you can hear the difference between a dark room which is silent and a dark room in which someone is not making a sound.

  5. Forded Eden White in Flood. You took part in a famous pre-dawn raid over a broad, deep river. Half of your force was swept away and drowned, but the enemy was taken entirely by surprise, and their leaders were slain before the watchmen were roused. Educated officers will have learned about this raid in the academy.

    You have a +4 bonus to any roll against being moved against your will.

  6. Killed an Evil Wizard With My Bare Hands. This one is a straight-up lie: you actually bashed the wizard to death with the occult manacles he had placed on you in preparation for a goetic sacrifice.

    You can tell the difference between magical and non-magical items by tasting them, and you get an extra save against any Command spell.

  7. Waded Ankle-Deep in Blood. You took part in an infamous blockade of a fortified city. The six-month siege resulted in the destruction of the walls and the slaughter of the inhabitants, which caused a mass-rising of the Unburied. The city is abandoned to this day and the survivors curse your name.

    You can identify the value of a mundane item in a real damn hurry, about as accurately as a first-level thief.

  8. Rode Beside A Hero. You once rode vanguard for a young man with a strange birthmark and a bad habit of rescuing people. Later, he distinguished himself as the Chosen One in some prophecy or other. This fact might be worth a free drink or two, but unless you can find the boy again, you probably won't get the full benefit of this tall tale.

  9. Strolled Through a Blockade. You were once besieged in a fortified city, cut off from supplies of food and water. When all hope seemed lost, you slipped out a side door one evening and walked through the enemy line. No one challenged you. You were as surprised by this as anyone.

    Outside of combat, people just assume you are where you belong unless given a compelling reason not to.

  10. Killed Three Men With One Shot. This one is also not true. You shot one man who was at the top of a tall ladder, and he knocked two others off as he fell.

    If you roll a critical hit with a firearm you make a ballistically improbable shot. The target you hit moves up to 10' in any direction you choose, including straight up. It's the Dungeon Master's problem to explain how this is possible.

  11. Won a Game of Riddles With A Giant. Self-explanatory, really. They were good riddles.

    Non-player characters take your riddles very seriously, although this usually isn't enough to dissuade them from killing you.

  12. Narrowly Escaped an Angry Husband. One escapade in a post-battle debauch led to a deadly choice: face an angry and armed city headsman while totally nude, or leap headfirst out a third-story window. You chose the leap, survived the fall, and haven't been afraid of heights since.

    You treat every fall as if it were 10 feet lower.

You've seen it before. Twice. You have a +4 bonus on saves vs. Fear. If you succeed, allies and hirelings who can see you have a +2 bonus to their save. Even if you fail the save, if you were carrying a loaded pistol you can take a shot before running away.

You aren’t some bumbling conscript, you're a Zouave, and people around here are starting to remember what that means. Peasant militias, wandering thief-catchers and other assorted low-caste warriors will look to you for guidance. Even the nobility will stop to listen if you make a fuss, although they might have you horsewhipped if you say something they don’t like. In addition, you can issue a challenge to an NPC you aren't currently fighting. Roll a d6 to determine their response, which depends on their social class:
  1. Peasant:
        1: Disbelief and derision,
        2-6: Intimidation and apology.
  2. Soldier:
        1: Loud mockery. Expect his friends to try and beat you up.
        2-5: They accept. Expect a fistfight or, at best, a choice of two sturdy clubs
        6: Intimidation and awkward verbal submission.
  3. Noble (shitty):
        1-2: A horsewhipping
        3-6: They accept. Name your terms.
  4. Noble (not shitty):
        1: Guards! Guards!
        2-5: A horsewhipping, followed by a second and more thorough horsewhipping
        6: Pistols at dawn.

Old Friends
They found you at last; the ones you've been trying to avoid for years. They might owe you a debt, but they are probably here to collect instead. This is someone who featured in one of your tall tales; maybe a survivor of a siege, or a hero, or an angry husband. Or a giant. Or a goat. Or a dead wizard.

Nose for Trouble
Your paranoia has saved your life many times, and if you attend to it closely it will save you many times more. You always go first in combat. If you are surprised, you aren't. If you take someone else by surprise you deal maximum damage with all attacks on your first turn. You sleep with a loaded gun under your pillow, and unless you've been strip-searched you always have 1d4 knives on your person. If someone demands you hand over your weapons you can pull the old unloading-an-armory gag and hand over all four — but you will still be carrying the 1d4.

Source: Wikipedia


  1. Ringsword. Classic Aeshean sword. Looks like a spatha with a big knuckleguard, and the pommel is a ring. Nobles would thread a ball-and-chain through the pommel in ages past, but that style has mostly fallen out of fashion.

  2. Snapchance. Classic Aeshean black-powder pistol. About the size, shape and weight of a foot attached to a calf. Deals 2d6 damage on a hit. Takes a full minute to reload, and fires with disadvantage if you moved last turn. -1 to-hit for every 10 feet between you and the target.
    A proper bullet gives a flat +1 to-hit, but you can load it with coins, shrapnel or crossbow bolts for no bonus.

  3. Black Powder. Comes in horns or kegs, you have a horn of it. The keg is probably as dangerous as a Fireball. Enough ink has been shed on this topic; I'm sure I don't need to explain how to use black powder in a game. 1 or 10 slots.

  4. Excellent Backpack. Every adventurer wears a backpack, but this one is really excellent. Allows you to carry two more items before becoming encumbered (not two more items total).

  5. Grapnel and 50' of rope. 1 slot each

  6. 40' of iron chain. 2 slots.

  7. A shortbow and a quiver with 20 arrows. 1 slot each.

  8. A wool cloak with a camouflage pattern of your choice. Options include: forest (green), desert (brown), ice (white and grey), sea (dark blue with green bits), sky (bright blue with white bits), city (cityscape), Hell (red and orange).

  9. A hammer and 10 eighteen-inch iron spikes. 1 slot each.

  10. A hand drill with a six-inch bit. Can make a hole in sedimentary rock in five minutes and igneous in half an hour. 1 slot.

  11. A flask that keeps hot things hot and cold things cold. Not magical, but if you suddenly produce a cup of steaming hot chocolate people might mistake you for an angel. 1 slot.

  12. A gleaming brass shield which can serve as a mirror. 2 slots.

  13. A stiff leather bag stuffed with straw, taller and broader than a man. Holding this below you lets you treat a fall as 20 feet shorter. 5 slots.

  14. A pair of manacles lined with gold. 1 slot.

  15. A pair of fashionable pincenez in an ivory sheath, which slightly (~1.15 times) magnify your vision.

  16. A book of famous poetry and quotations. Gorgeous leather binding, silk cover, perhaps an autograph from the poet.

  17. A small case of snake oil. The tinctures, ointments and potions inside have a 1-in-6 chance of healing 1 HP when applied. You could make 5d4 gp hawking this stuff on the sidewalk, or use it to impersonate a doctor. 2 slots.

  18. A golden candlestick. Worth 20 gp in good condition. Can be used as a light weapon against the undead, but it breaks on an attack roll of 1 and is only worth 5 gp as scrap. 1 slot.

  19. Red Powder. Comes in horns or kegs, you have a horn of it. This stuff is weaker than black powder, so weapons loaded with it deal two points of damage less, but it can fire when soaking wet, produces no smoke and is almost silent. The muzzle flash is lurid red and much brighter than that of normal powder. 2 or 20 slots (very heavy)

  20. A weird or inexplicable curio. Roll 1d6:
    • 1. A locket with a lacquer portrait of an old woman. If you whisper a message into the locket and close it immediately, the message will be repeated in an old woman's voice the next time the locket is opened.
    • 2. A crude bronze key, inscribed with eye-watering runes of evil import. The pagan magic of this key will seize up any mundane lock. They can then only be opened by the twin of this key — which, unfortunately, you do not own. It also doesn't make doors more difficult to bash down.
    • 3. A polished piece of cobalt ore, which looks exactly like a closed fist from one angle. 
    • 4. A red ribbon with gold brocade. Three feet long, and at least four times stronger than iron chain.
    • 5. An antimakassar with a map scrawled on it in blood. It isn't immediately obvious what it's a map of, but it has a big X mark and the words "GRAVEBORN SINNER HIDES THE GOLD 45 ½ AA"
    • A bronze skull with an opening on the top. Twice as deep as it is tall. Occupies 1 slot in your inventory, 2 slots of items can be contained within it.

Friday, October 25, 2019

Things That Will Eat You and Where You Might Find Them

    Why did the g_ds allow Chaos to enter into their creation? The Heilagrians put forward that the plans the g_ds had for the world are beyond the ability of humans to understand and should never be questioned. The Palatian school held that Chaos is the fundamental substance of reality; the material world is encroaching on it, not the other way around. The modern Aeshean church teaches that the g_ds were not strong enough to resist the encroaching darkness. This is how we know the old folk-religions are false (G_d's reason for including Chaos is probably something like heilagrianism).

    The effects of Chaos corrupt the living and return life to the dead. From it the anti-clerics draw evil power, and in it dwell the strange creatures to which the heretic magnates sell their souls. Civilization clings to the ancient fortified cities whose walls were built when the g_ds dealt with man face to face. To leave the safety of those walls is to leave behind the world of light and sanity and to wager your soul against superstition and undying evil. Those who make that wager often look on their more cautious brothers with sneering superiority; and consider their own lives all the more noble for their painful brevity.

Know, O Prince, that between the years when Atlantis and her gleaming cities drank the bitter sea, and the years of the rise of the sons of Aryas, there was an age undreamed of, where proud and ancient kingdoms lay spread out like silken mantles beneath the sky.

    The most common Chaotic threat in the wilderness is, of course, the Unburied. Corpses left unconsecrated and exposed to the night sky will rise again, motivated by unholy hatred of light and laughter. Even a single walking corpse is a serious threat to an unguarded settlement, as they are almost impossible to kill without sorcery or golden arms; small communities know they are only delaying the inevitable with their night watchmen and burning arrows.


Appearance: a walking corpse, usually in a state of advanced decay. Wears the clothing and carries the accoutrements of life.
Wants: to kill living things, to spread pain and fear, to avoid fires or to quench them if possible. To silence music and put an end to cheer.
Armor: as chain. Their flesh ablates when struck. They do not feel pain.
Move: 12 (normal human speed). The Unburied do not weary. They can run a human down over long distances.
Intelligence: animal-like.
Morale: 8 (very low for an undead with subhuman intellect; they are easily intimidated by fire or large groups)

Attacks: The Unburied make two clumsy claw attacks against a single target on its turn, for 1d4+1 damage each with no to-hit bonus. If both claws hit the zombie grabs its target and bites them for an additional 1d4+1 damage. This attack can kill a peasant in a single shot. Those who are killed have a 2-in-6 chance of immediately rising as an Unburied; otherwise, they have the normal chance of rising at sunset.
If the Unburied is carrying weapons or equipment they will use those instead. They still make two attacks but no longer bite.

Spontaneous Generation: A corpse left unburied and exposed to the sky has a 10% chance of rising as an Unburied every sunset. This is not cumulative, and a body may lie outside for weeks before rising.

Undead: Weapons, even enchanted ones (unless specifically enchanted for this purpose), deal half damage to the Unburied. Because of gold's affinity to the sun weapons made of the material deal normal damage, but any golden weapon larger than a knife is impractical. The Unburied are damaged (1d6 a round) by sunlight or fire. They know this and take steps to avoid both. Abandoned houses are their favorite.

Horde: These lesser undead are rarely found alone. If you encounter an Unburied randomly, there is a 5-in-6 chance you will almost immediately notice a second walking corpse. Roll again for this one, and the next one, and the next one. . .
From the Nuremberg Chronicles. I usually do a shitty traceover of woodcuts, but this one looks really nice and is colored.

    Adventurers who think they can avoid the undead menace by putting out to sea are likely to fall prey to the Drift-dead. A corpse left unburied and floating in water will rise again, motivated by inconsolable guilt and misplaced anger. Sailors who fear death by drowning wear golden body piercings — this does not prevent them from rising, but the superstition is common. Children in coastal communities learn young to never play by the water after dark.
    To drown is a deeply shameful way to die because it almost ensures that your body will rise again to plague the living. The Drift-dead understand this to some degree. They may attempt to revisit friends and family members from their past, or to follow captains they served under. Legends speak of pirate vessels trailed by legions of corpses, and of parents torn apart in their beds by prodigal children they sent to sea. 


Appearance: a disturbance in the water, or a mass of wriggling rot and sea-slime dragging itself up out of the surf.
Wants: to kill living things, to spread pain and misery, to quench fires and destroy light sources. To stalk happy families in well-lit homes, especially those it knew in life.
Armor: as plate. It is almost impossible to harm the Drift-dead with normal weaponry.
Move: 9 (burdened). Their rotting limbs struggle to propel them on land. They are faster in the water, however, and swimming humans have little chance of escape.
Intelligence: disjointed and confused.
Morale: 10 (despite advanced decay they will avoid certain destruction)

Attacks: The Drift-dead makes one lunging attack at a single target on its turn, for 1d6+4 damage, with a +4 to-hit bonus if both the target and the Drift-dead are in water. If it hits, the target is tangled in seaweed and rot. On land, a tangled creature moves at ½ speed; in water a creature that requires air immediately begins to drown. A human who is killed or drowned by a Drift-dead has a 4-in-6 chance of immediately rising immediately.

Spontaneous Generation: A corpse left unburied and floating in water has a 35% chance of rising as a Drift-dead every sunset. This is not cumulative, and a body may float unattended for days before rising.

Undead: Weapons, even enchanted ones (unless specifically enchanted for this purpose), deal half damage to the Drift-dead. Because of gold's affinity to the sun weapons made of the material deal normal damage (this knowledge is even less useful in the water). The Drift-dead are damaged (1d6 a round) by sunlight or fire. They know this, which is why they spend most of their time underwater.

Scavenger: The Drift-dead follow ships as eels and sharks do, and for the same reason. A small ship has a 2-in-6 chance of being followed by 1d4 undead, a medium-sized ship 3-in-6 for 1d4+2, and a large ship or a pirate vessel is always followed by 2d4+2 Drift-dead. A fair wind or a full day of hard rowing can leave them behind, but becalmed vessels will gather more dead soon enough The Drift-dead aren't quite nimble enough to climb the hull, but small vessels might be vulnerable to being tipped or dragged. . .
That boat is barely bigger than they are! Poor bastards never stood a chance.

    One of the worst ways to die is to be lost underground. Miners rarely speak of this (to prevent their fearful words from jinxing the beams and supports of the tunnels), but the thought never leaves their minds. A corpse unburied will rise again, but what happens to someone who is buried while still alive? Battered and bleeding after a cave-in or accidental fall, wandering alone in the perfect darkness, growing colder and colder — you wouldn't even realize it when you died. Not until you came across some other poor lost soul, and woke to find yourself picking your teeth with their gnawed bones.
    The Cobolds, as they are called, are the most dangerous of the common undead. Something about their manner of dying twisted them up, turning them cruel and insane while preserving their intelligence. In life they were trapped beneath the earth; in death they are trapped in their own mummifying bodies, unable to escape even if they were standing before the very gates of the adit. They have nothing to hope for but true death.


Appearance: a man or woman dressed in work clothes, their skin oil-black and taut across their bones, peeling away in some places.
Wants: to kill living things, to spread fear, to commit acts of sabotage and create more Cobolds. To be destroyed in fire.
Armor: as unarmored. It isn't that it's difficult to hit their brittle bodies, it's that they are totally incapable of caring about physical damage.
Move: 15 (faster than a man). Miners move slowly for fear of low ceilings; Cobolds no longer care if they shatter themselves on the rocks.
Intelligence: Human-level, but malicious and irrational.
Morale: 12 (they fear nothing. they might even go out of their way to attack powerful groups in the hopes of being destroyed)

Attacks: A Cobold makes three quick claw attacks against a single target on its turn, for 1d4+2 damage with a +2 to-hit. If two attacks hit it makes a fourth. Cobolds will use darkness and cramped passageways to their advantage, and are intelligent enough to plan complex ambushes or chase opponents into pits or other hazards.

Spontaneous Generation: A corpse left unburied and far away from the light of the sun has a 5% chance of rising as a Trapped every seventy-two hours. This is not cumulative, and a body may lie undisturbed for months before rising. Someone who dies very slowly while conscious, however, has a 75% chance of immediately becoming a Cobold; this chance may be increased if they were terrified when they died, or by natural affinity for Chaos.

Undead:Weapons, even enchanted ones (unless specifically enchanted for this purpose), deal half damage to Cobolds.  Because of gold's affinity to the sun weapons made of the material deal normal damage, and miners may carry a golden dagger or cosh for this reason. Cobolds are also damaged (2d6 a round) by sunlight or fire. They flee from both of these as if Turned, and will attempt to set up traps to get rid of torches.

Dark Influence: Cobolds wants to create more Cobolds, and a walking corpse is a tireless saboteur. A single Cobold can take down an entire complex. Rumors that one is lurking in the darkness can shut down a mine. The bosses protest; the workers are cajoled back into the tunnels — and then, suddenly, the entrances collapse, and the mine is plunged into insanity. One such catastrophe can create a dozen new high-level undead.
Specialist hunters will be called into mines where such activity is suspected. The rewards are high; the risks of pursuing an intelligent undead in its own home are higher. . .
Is that a light? Have you found your way out at last?

Monday, October 21, 2019

Blessed of G_d (Class: Cleric)

    Hello! If you followed a link to this Cleric, the information is out of date. Go read this new post instead.

 The undead are a constant threat; a sword of Damocles hanging over the civilized world. When the proper funeral rituals are not performed on a new corpse it sometimes rises as a monster the peasants call "Unburied". Parties of corpse-hunters patrol city streets by night, while the forests are full of ravaged woodcutters, and the hills are dense with cabinfuls of starving wights. The Drowned (born of lost sailors) and the Trapped (born of lost miners) are even more dangerous, but the common Unburied are more than enough to overwhelm small settlements.

 The Heretic, Witch and Warlock must also be dealt with. These foes of civilization and Law are more cunning than any walking corpse, and those who hunt them must be more cunning still. The forces of Chaos can be found at all levels of society, in every city, working at every profession, and taking any form which might give them an advantage.

 Clearly, then, there is justification for an Order empowered against the forces of the night. Agents of this Order would be given broad warrant to accomplish their goals. If you come across a zombie attacking a villager, or a noble family having an orgy with a herd of goats, you can hardly wait around for some bureaucrat to rubber-stamp a form. Immediate action is called for. These paladins are not subject to secular regulation; their pursuit of Law and Order (bom bom) transcends worldly borders.
 That doesn't mean that they don't have rules of their own to follow.

Bits of fifteenth-century medical woodcuts.

Cleric Errant

Monday, October 14, 2019


     When searching for good diseases, you will come across rules like "every two hours roll a constitution save, if you fail you lose 1 wisdom and 3 dexterity, which you regain in 8 hours, unless you roll an odd number of saves, in which case save against Charisma or [...]", alongside names like "Blundecralian Anus Rot" or "Hairy Bones".

     Problems with these rules: many fiddly numbers, therefore easy to forget. Not intuitive; I like my diseases with names I immediately recognize. Inconsistent with the fiction of the world; if the non-player characters are afraid of a disease, it should be something fearful.
Worst of all these rules are lame. Dying horribly of a disease should be cool.

     Here is my take on disease. Originally for use with 5e, altered to be GLOG compatible-ish. Fairly generic.
  • 1 – Cat Scratch.
    Vectors: Wild animal bites and scratches.
    Symptoms: Red lumps on the skin, then fatigue, then joint pain. Infected characters have two slots of exhaustion that rest does not remove.
    Cured by: A month of bed rest with plenty of fluids or a Lesser Restoration spell. Characters skilled in forestry or medicine may be able to craft a cure from wildflowers.
    Permanent effects: None. Characters who have once been infected can be infected again.
  • 2 Malaria
    Vectors: Jungles, swamps, other places with foul rotting things and stagnant water and biting insects.
    Symptoms: Chills, then fever, then sweating and shaking. Infected characters immediately drop anything in their hands when they roll a critical failure with any d20.
    Cured by: A month of bed rest with plenty of fluids or a Lesser Restoration spell. Characters skilled in forestry or medicine may be able to craft a cure from willow bark.
    Permanent effects: Characters who have once been infected with malaria will have advantage on saves against reinfection. Even after being cured, gaining exhaustion will give you the effects of malaria until you complete a long rest. Only a Greater Restoration or divine favor will end this permanent effect.
  • 3 Bubonic Plague
    Vectors: Filth, rats, exposure to places where people have died of Black Plague.
    Symptoms: Chills, then malaise, then high fever and muscle spasms, ending with death. At any point up to a month after your character comes into contact with a vector, your DM may require you to make a save against catching the Black Plague in this form.
    Cured by: A week of bed rest and plenty of fluids. Every day make a Constitution save and record the result. Three failures will result in instant death, three successes will cure you. A doctor present when you make the check or a casting of Lesser Restoration will immediately grant you one success. A casting of Restoration will cure you.
    Permanent effects: Characters who have once been infected will not be able to contract the Bubonic form again.
  • 4 Pneumonic Plague
    Vectors: Rats, infected persons, black magic and the undead.
    Symptoms: All Bubonic symptoms in addition to blood in the lungs. At any point up to a week after your character comes into contact with a vector, your DM may require you to make a save against catching the Black Plague in this form.
    Cured by: Three days of bed rest and plenty of fluids. Every eight hours make a Constitution save with a -2 penalty and record the result. Three failures will result in instant death, three successes will cure you. A skilled doctor or a casting of Lesser Restoration will immediately grant you one success, and a Greater Restoration will cure you.
    Permanent effects: Characters who have once been infected will not be able to contract the Bubonic or Pneumonic forms again. The horrible scarring of the necrotized flesh means you will be shunned by peasantry, but educated characters will know you are more dependable for having survived this, and will react accordingly.
  • 5 – Septicemic Plague
    Vectors: Taking melee damage from infected persons or the undead, various black magics, infected material directly entering a wound.
    Symptoms: All Pneumonic symptoms in addition to blood from orifices and under the skin. Immediately upon exposure to a vector, your DM may require you to make a save against catching the Black Plague in this form.
    Cured by: Nothing. Every 1 minute make a Constitution save with a -2 penalty and record the result. . Three failures will result in instant death, three successes resets both counters. Every time you reach three successes, you have a 1-in-6 chance of recovering. A casting of Restoration will immediately grant you one success, and a Greater Restoration will cure you. Doctors will be of no help.
    Permanent Effects: Characters who have once been infected are now immune to the Black Plague, and furthermore take half damage from evil magic. You must wear a mask to go about society, and removing that mask may incite a Morale check from all non-player characters present.
  • 6 – Leprosy
    Vectors: Dark magic is the most common vector, as it is difficult to catch this disease from lepers.
    Symptoms: Loss of sensation in the extremities accompanied with discoloration of skin. Lepers have disadvantage on saves against all other diseases, but have advantage on saves against Fear and are unaffected by pain.
    Cured by: Only divine favor can cure leprosy.
    Permanent Effects: The disease itself is permanent.
  • 7 – Rabies
    Vectors: Wild animal bites and scratches, damage from the undead, damage from infected persons.
    Symptoms: Painful thirst and fear of water, followed by loss of speech and inability to understand any language, ending with death. Rabies develops rapidly over the course of 1d4+1 days.
    Cured by: Rabies can not be cured by normal means and almost always kills the infected person. Cleaning the wound carefully within an hour from exposure to a vector will ensure the disease is not caught at all, but once a character has been infected only a Restoration spell or better will save them.
    Permanent Effects: None. Characters who have once been infected by rabies can be infected again.
  • 8 – Red Death
    Vectors: Dark magic, skin contact with blood of the infected, the undead.
    Symptoms: Confusion and disorientation, then blood from all orifices, ending with death. One day after coming into contact with a vector, you have a 5-in-6 chance of contracting the Red Death. The disease develops rapidly over the course of a few minutes.
    Cured by: Only Greater Regeneration or divine favor can save an infected person.
    Permanent Effects: The corpse of the infected person is damaged to the point that they cannot be brought back from the dead without a True Resurrection or the direct intervention of the being that possesses their soul (usually their deity).
  • 9 – Scurvy
    Vectors: Extended use of rations in the place of fresh food (~one month, depending on the rations).
    Symptoms: Joint pain, then opening of old wounds and tooth loss. Characters suffering from scurvy do not heal when taking a Lunch, and healing spells are only half as effective.
    Cured by: While any healing spell can hold off the effects for one day, scurvy is a nutritional deficit and will quickly return. It can easily be cured by eating fresh fruit and vegetables for a few days.
    Permanent effects: None. Characters who have once been infected can be infected again.
  • 10 – Tetanus
    Vectors: Dirty or rusty weapons, such as those carried by monsters.
    Symptoms: Bone-breaking muscle spasms and difficulty speaking. Infected characters cannot speak, and can not cast any spells which require them to speak. Any time the character fails a Strength check, they take 1d4 damage as their muscles lock and tear.
    Cured by: A month of bed rest with plenty of fluids or a casting of the Lesser Restoration spell. Characters skilled in forestry or medicine may be able to craft a cure from charcoal and alcohol.
    Permanent effects: None. Characters who have once been infected can be infected again.
  • 11 – Lyme
    Vectors: Insects common in temperate forests.
    Symptoms: Joint pain, large bullseye rashes, then delirium. Infected characters are partially paralyzed. Each morning roll a d4:
    1. Face paralyzed, cannot speak.
    2. Legs paralyzed, must crawl at half speed or be carried.
    3. Arms paralyzed, cannot use their hands.
    4. Lungs paralyzed, unable to do anything except lie on their back and focus on breathing. Every time they are forced to roll a d20 they receive two slots of exhaustion.
    Cured by: A month of bed rest with plenty of fluids or a casting of the Lesser Restoration spell. There is no normal cure.
    Permanent effects: Even after being cured, gaining exhaustion will give you the effects of Lyme until you complete a long rest. Only a Greater Restoration or divine favor will end this permanent effect.

  • 12 – Common Cold
    Vectors: Swimming, other people, being cold.
    Symptoms: Mild headache and a runny nose.
    Cured by: This disease respects nothing, neither of Man nor G_d. There is no medicine, and no magic, which can cure the common cold. Only 1d3+1 days will save you.
    Permanent effects: None. Characters who have once been infected can be infected again.


     Lyme, Tetanus, Scurvy, Rabies, Malaria and Cat Scratch are worksite hazards for adventurers. Note that only Rabies has the primary effect of killing the character. The other diseases are intended to complicate gameplay, though you can certainly have them be lethal if left untreated.
     The three types of Bubonic Plague, along with the Red Death, are nation-destabilizing metathreats. These might be brought by an angry g_d, or they could be part of the plan of an ancient lich.

Accursed of G_d (Class: The Leper)

Luke 17:11-19
Jesus Heals Ten Men With Leprosy
[11] And it came to pass, as He was going to Jerusalem, He passed through the midst of Samaria and Galilee. [12] And as He entered into a certain town, there met Him ten men that were lepers, who stood afar off; [13] And lifted up their voice, saying: Jesus, master, have mercy on us. [14] Whom when He saw, He said: Go, shew yourselves to the priests. And it came to pass, as they went, they were made clean. [15] And one of them, when he saw that he was made clean, went back, with a loud voice glorifying God.

[16] And he fell on his face before His feet, giving thanks: and this was a Samaritan. [17] And Jesus answering, said, Were not ten made clean? and where are the nine? [18] There is no one found to return and give glory to God, but this stranger. [19] And He said to him: Arise, go thy way; for thy faith hath made thee whole.

While healthy Judeans and Samaritans hated one another, their lepers knew no race or creed. Lepers are shunned by their communities and viewed with a healthy combination of dislike and fear. This, in turn, means that lepers are free from ordinary social expectations and strictures. They are expendable. When one dies, another will come along shortly.
Does this sound familiar?

The Leper

You receive +1 HP for every template you possess. You are not assumed to be able to wear armor, though your history or a template from another class may give you this ability anyway.
Starting items: Filthy bandages (leather -1), walking stick, large handbell (as a club).
Skills: 1. Courtier, 2. Doctor, 3. Conman, 4. Farmer, 5. Sailor, 6. Priest, or choose from another class. Lepers come from all walks of life

Half-Caster: You are a half-caster, learning only two spells and gaining only two magic dice. You have no cantrips, but you do have a Perk and a Drawback.
Perk: You and your black magic are terrifying to any civilized creature. If a spell deals damage to an intelligent creature, they must make a save against Fear or be frightened of you for one minute. If your spell effects an area, your Dungeon Master might decide to roll a Morale check for every intelligent creature in that area.
Drawback: You have leprosy. You are a leper. Also, you can only cast spells while ringing a large handbell and screaming at the top of your lungs. Gandalf you ain't.
  • A Leprosy
  • B Horror of Death, +1 MD
  • C Mad-Eyed Preacher, Token of G_d
  • D Mark of Cain, +1 MD


You have leprosy, which is a curse inflicted by G_d for the sins of the world. This disease gives you disadvantage on saves against any other disease, but grants you advantage on saves against Fear and makes you immune to Agony or other effects which cause pain. For now you can conceal this with heavy clothing, but if people find out about this they will shun you. You have a cumulative 1-in-6 chance each day of being driven out of any town or city where you are recognized as a leper.

Horror of Death

The disease has ravaged your body, and you are immediately recognizable as a leper. Wearing a mask might work from a distance, but the smell of blood will clue off  those nearby. You have disadvantage on any save against injury. Intelligent creatures will go far out of their way to avoid coming near you; this includes pirates, orcs and bandits who would usually attack an unarmed traveler.
Intelligent creatures ordered to attack you at melee range must make a save against Fear or they will ignore these orders. Additionally, you can attempt to Turn any number of intelligent creatures within earshot by ringing your bell and screaming "Unclean! Unclean! Unclean!" over and over again. You learn one spell from your list by rolling 1d4

Mad-Eyed Preacher

To some, your disfigurement is a sign that G_d is displeased. The fact that you life has been preserved despite the extensive bodily corruption indicates that you have been chosen to express that displeasure. If you place yourself near the gate of a town or city and begin to rant you will attract 3d4 faithful, 1d4-2 of the local priests, and 1d4 guards or agents of the local noble. Each group takes you seriously, but assume that the priests and guards are reporting everything to their respective bosses. You can turn public opinion very quickly in this way, though you may draw the hostile eye of the rich and the powerful by doing so.
Token of G_d
Religious figures will hunt you down in an attempt to heal your disease with a holy miracle. Losing your leprosy will also cause you to lose every template in this class (but you do not forget spells known). If you want to avoid this, assume that you have a cumulative 1-in-12 chance of encountering one of these holy men every day you spend camped outside of a town or city.

Mark of Cain
Your disease has progressed to the point that it is not immediately obvious what race you were before your infection. Intelligent creatures will do their best to go unnoticed by you entirely. Any intelligent creature of 2HD or less must make a save against Fear to make a ranged attack against you, in addition to their normal unwillingness to enter melee range. Unintelligent undead (zombies, skeletons, some mummies and ghouls) will mistake you for one of their own and will not attack you without orders. You learn one spell from your list by rolling 1d4

Leper Spells

1. Shelter
R: 50' T: an appropriate place to stretch a tarp D: [sum]*2 hours
A heavy canvas tarp springs into existence between three anchoring points, such as trees or rocks. This tarp is waterproof and appropriately camouflaged for the area. It is large enough to provide shelter from the elements to [dice]*2 creatures (ten or twenty feet to a side), but you will have to provide your own nest of garbage and filthy rags. Falling onto this tarp reduces fall damage by half. It can bear the weight of as many creatures as it can shelter.
2. Stones to Toads
R: touch T: [dice] stones around the size of a toad D: permanent
A stone you hold in your hands becomes a live toad with one HP. This is a real motherfucker of a toad, covered in warts and slime and dirt. You can fling it at someone, and a hit counts as 1 point of damage from a spell. The toad counts as one ration. Bon appetit.
3.  Decay
R: touch T: a creature or a corpse D: immediate
You deal [sum]/2 necrotic damage to a creature or a corpse with a touch. Assume corpses have 3 HP. A creature or a corpse reduced to 0 HP by this spell are quickly reduced to a skeleton. If you invested two magic dice, that skeleton is also reduced to dust.
4. Weirdlight
R: 30' T: a point you can see D: [dice] hours
A spherical volume with a radius of [sum]*5 feet is illuminated with a ghastly green light, as if every surface was coated in a bioluminescent substance. Ranged attacks targeted at someone in this sphere are made with a -4 penalty, as distances become difficult to judge. Creatures with infravision are blinded in this area; this includes dwarves and elves.
5. Servant of Samael
R: n/a T: a community of intelligent creatures D: n/a
At some point in the next 24 hours a minor angel (10HD) under the tutelage of Samael, G_d's Poison, will arrive at the targeted community and linger for several rounds. The angel is not your friend and does not care what happens to you as a result of this spell.
If the city is not currently suffering an epidemic, one will begin as 1d3*10 percent of the population are suddenly infected (roll a d10 for each party member to figure out what decile they are a part of). If the city is suffering an epidemic, it will rapidly end as local priests are granted healing powers and local doctors are granted epiphanies. The angel isn't actually responsible for this and the spell doesn't actually summon the angel; rather, think of the angel as having a checklist of places to visit, and this spell as moving an entry up on the list.
If you invested two magic dice you can choose at what point the angel appears, to coincide with a particularly aggressive rant against the establishment or to give you time to escape the area.
6. Drought
R: 5 miles T: a circle 1 mile in radius, centered on a point D: [sum]*[dice] days
In an area around a point you choose clouds will not form and rain will not fall. This spell may be cast multiple times to stack its duration. Ending its effects requires you to cast it "backwards", to reduce the duration by [sum]*[dice] days. The perfect circular hole in the sky is an immediate clue that black magic or divine disfavor is at play, and if the drought lasts long enough to threaten crops or livestock then witch-hunters will be called in.  The spell ends immediately if you move farther than 5 miles from where it is cast: if this happens you take 1 point of damage for every day of duration left, rounded up.

While the exact details of this spell are not common knowledge, it is common knowledge that magicians must remain in the area of any drought they cause.
Mishaps (1d4):
  1. Dice return to your pool only on a 1 or 2 for twenty-four hours.
  2. You take 1d6 damage as parts of your body fall off.
  3. The entire spell fails.
  4. Everyone within 30' is inflicted with Agony for 1d6 rounds.
Dooms of the Leper

You have leprosy. You probably got it from rolling your last Doom in some other class. Also, you don't have three dice so you can't roll dooms. 


This isn't a very practical class for an adventurer and is certainly inappropriate for, say, a politics-focused game, but it might be fun in a misery-crawl or a very low-powered game. While you don't get very good at fighting it is also difficult for you to be killed in a fight, so perhaps it evens out.

These spells are some classic black magic too. Lepers have only one somewhat-crap damage dealing spell (two if you count the toad), but all spells benefit from your perk. You don't have "emblem spells" per se, but Drought can probably be learned from evil sorcerers and witches. Don't forget that the Leper casts spells in the least-stealthy way possible.