Fantasy Friday Edition

If the unexpected is where the magic happens, then allies are the ones who help you survive it.

In most fantasy games, we talk a lot about the players, the villains, and the world. But some of the richest, strangest, most meaningful moments don’t come from the final boss or the quest-giver with a shiny reward; they come from the people the characters meet along the way.

The allies. The NPCs. The ones who weren’t supposed to matter, but suddenly do.

I’ve long believed that a good ally is more than just someone who helps in a fight. They’re the soul of a campaign. They give the players a reason to care about the world. A reason to stay. A reason to come back.

Sometimes they start as simple archetypes: the barkeep with a missing eye, the goblin who insists he’s a poet, the witch in the woods who offers help with a price attached. But then something happens. A player makes a connection. They ask a question you weren’t ready for. They offer kindness, or threat, and the relationship takes on a life of its own.

Suddenly, that nameless sage becomes the character’s mentor. The grumpy caravan driver becomes comic relief, and then a trusted friend.

 The rival adventuring party becomes something more complex than competition.

In fantasy stories, allies ground us. They remind the characters that they’re not alone. That the world isn’t just monsters and gold and ancient curses, it’s people. Living, flawed, sometimes irritating, and often surprising people.

And yes, sometimes they betray you. Sometimes they turn out to be working for the villain, or hiding a dangerous secret, or just get in over their heads and die in the second act. That’s part of the deal. But the good ones, the ones who stay, those are the ones your players will talk about years later.

I’ve had NPCs who were meant to be one-hit wonders end up starring in entire campaigns.  I’ve seen players go to absurd lengths to save them, avenge them, or recruit them. The characters and players even look forward to seeing them. Evelyn, the Princess Escalla, is an excellent example of this. They hated her at first, but when she showed up at the right time, they loved her. Not bad for a little half-pixie girl with a huge sword.

And I think that’s the point.

In the middle of all the darkness and mystery, all the chaos and combat, allies give us something else: hope.

 Even if they’re flawed. Even if they’re weird, and Evelyn was weird. Even if they were just a name on a note card five minutes ago.

They remind us that the world is worth saving. Or at least, worth traveling through one more day.

Questions

When. Confident. Rule.

Hmm. When am I confident in a new rule? When I have made a new rule for a game, I am confident it will "sell" well when my playtesters tell me how cool it was.  

https://www.autocratik.com/ • https://www.castingshadowsblog.com/

 I am still enjoying Daggerheart, but I haven't had much of a chance to play lately. Star Wars has been taking a lot of our time. No need for minis when you still have Kenner Star Wars figures!

This past week, we saw the limited release of the new Red Sonja movie, which, by all accounts, is not bad. Better than the 1985 movie (not a high bar, of course). Too bad it did not get a better release. Have to wait for an on-demand or digital release. I am also reading Gail Simone's "Red Sonja: Consumed." I wanted to follow up with some Red Sonja after reading so much of Howard's original work, and I wasn't all that interested in reading the Conan or Kull pastiches. There were a couple of newer Kane books (from different authors) that looked fun. And since anything done is worth doing in excess, I grabbed the latest Humble Bundle of Dynamite's Red Sonja comic run.

Appendix N Note: Although Red Sonja is not listed in Appendix N, Gary was aware of the character from Marvel's 1973-1986 run. That is prime "Golden Age" D&D time. She gets honorable inclusion, I think.

I like Red Sonja. Ok. I like her a lot. She might be one of the reasons so many of my characters have red hair. Ok, her and Batgirl. I loved her run in Marvel comics. I do think we get a slightly more sophisticated character under Dynamite, but all the Sonjas are great in my mind. One of the stories I read last night, "Red Sonja: Altered States," dealt with her spirit reappearing in modern New York. Fun idea really. Got me thinking maybe the "red goddess Scáthach" is really just Sonja herself helping her reincarnations throughout time and space. Anyway, there is something I am planning to have some fun with later on, but for now I think I want to see what she would be like in Daggerheart.

Sonja the Red for Daggerheart

There are a lot of "fighter"-like classes for Daggerheart and lots of things she could be. While there is the "barbarian" idea from Conan, I always felt Sonja was a bit different. In AD&D terms, she would be a fighter. A good fighter, but not a ranger (though that is what she is in Pathfinder: Worldscape) and certainly not a paladin. 

In Daggerheart classes are made up of two Domains. Given her moniker of "She-Devil with a Sword" I feel that one of those domains needs to be "Blade." This gives me two choices, Warrior (Blade and Bone) and Guardian (Blade and Valor). For this, I have to go with Warrior.  After that the rest fell into place rather quickly.

Red Sonja of Hyrkania

Level 5
Class & Subclass: Warrior (Call of the Slayer)
Ancestry & Heritage: Wanderborne Human
Pronouns: She/Her

Agility: 3
Strength: 2
Finesse: 0
Instinct: 1
Presence: -1
Knowledge: 0

Evasion: 12
Armor: 4 

HP: 7
Minor Damage: 14 Major Damage: 22
Stress: 6

Hope: 2

Weapons: Greatsword, Strength Melee, 3d10+8 Physical
Hallowed Axe, Strength Melee, 3d8+6 Magical

Armor: Leather 6/13 +3

Experience
No Man Can Defeat Me +2
I Will Avenge my Clan +2
Gold! Drink! Adventure! +2 (can find adventure, or trouble)
I have been to lots of places +2 (picking up tidbits of knowledge and language)

Class Features
No Mercy, Call of the Slayer, Weapon Specialist, Get Back Up, Untouchable, I See It Coming, Reckless, Fortified Armor, Vitality x2

This was a fast and easy build. 

Her features (the class cards) fit her well, to be honest. Given Daggerheart's narrative structure, fitting these to her backstory is easy. And given her backstory has changed over the years, well, this all still works.

I have seen Red Sonja in New York, in Victorian London, in Pathfinder, and even in Riverdale. Maybe this is Red Sonja in Iriandor. Why she is there, though, is an excellent question. She is never a tourist; there is a reason. I am going to blame the Wizard Thorne.

I am not sure what that reason is just yet.

Links to my other Red Sonja builds

• Old-School Essentials, with Thorne
• Army of Darkness
• Spellcraft & Swordplay
• Mutants and Masterminds 3rd Edition
• Barbarians of Lemuria
• Astonishing Swordsmen & Sorcerers of Hyperborea
• Leagues of Adventure (Ubiquity)

I could certainly do more, to be honest.

 The unexpected is where the magic happens.

You can prep the dungeon. You can write out the villain’s monologue. You can stack the random encounter tables and plan your traps with precision. But none of it survives contact with the players.

And that’s the point.

"Everyone has a plan until they get punched in the face." 

 - Mike Tyson

Fantasy roleplaying lives in that strange middle place between structure and surprise. The tension between what we plan and what actually happens. And over the years, I’ve learned to stop resisting the unexpected and start inviting it.

I’ve had villains turn into allies, thanks to a clever player speech. I’ve had major arcs derailed by a single spell (more than one). I’ve seen players bond with NPCs I hadn’t even named yet (too many times to count), turning a throwaway shopkeeper into a long-running favorite. I’ve had sessions where everything clicked, and others where nothing went according to plan but somehow worked anyway.

That’s what I love about this hobby. The unexpected isn’t a problem. It’s the reward.

But it’s not just in gameplay mechanics or plot twists. It’s also in the tone. The emotional texture. I’ve had horror campaigns become character dramas. Light-hearted one-shots veer into genuine catharsis. Once, in the middle of what should have been a tense combat encounter, a player described their character’s internal conflict so beautifully it stopped the game cold. We just sat with it. That moment, unplanned and unprompted, said more than any scripted scene could.

And sometimes, it’s the characters themselves who surprise you. The warlock who resists the call of their patron. The cleric who starts to doubt. The witch who turns away from power to protect something small and fragile. The hero who decides not to fight, but to forgive.

As a DM, I’ve learned to treat the unexpected like a knock at the door. You don’t always know who’s there, but it’s worth answering.

Because that’s where the best stories begin.

Not where you planned, but where the players took you instead.

Questions

How. Excited. Character.

How excited am I for a character? I am always excited about a new character, all the untapped potential. Everything about a new character.

https://www.autocratik.com/ • https://www.castingshadowsblog.com/

 Today I conclude this "mini-series" on the pivotal works of Robert E. Howard, one of the most influential authors in Appendix N, shaping the Dungeons & Dragons experience. 

I have already covered Conan in Part 1, and his horror stories in Part 2. Today I am going to talk two of his other characters, King Kull of Atlantis and Solomon Kane.

Kull of Atlantis: Silence Where a Witch (or even Women) Might Be

Kull’s stories are dreamlike, almost mythic, often more about philosophy than plot. Women of any kind are scarce, and witches are entirely absent. When sorcery intrudes, it comes from male figures: Thulsa Doom, the snake-men, necromancers, shadowy priests.

Is Kull even interested in women? Howard never shows him with lovers, nor does he pit him against the temptations or sorceries of an enchantress. Kull broods on law, on identity, on the shifting unreality of his throne, but not on witches, or even women for that matter. Their absence says much: the philosopher-king is concerned with metaphysical threats, not the seductions or mysteries that witches (and sorcerers) often embody in Howard’s other tales. 

Kull's most significant interaction with a woman comes from one of his earliest tales. A girl in his village is being burned at the stake for taking a lover from the wrong tribe. Kull, not seeing the justice in this, uses his own flint dagger to give her a merciful, quick death. For which he is hunted. 

Speaking of flint daggers. Kull is supposed to be taking place around 100,000 BCE. So really pre-history, but it feels more like 100 BCE in terms of "technology." Granted it is "lost age" the same sort you see working in Wasted Lands: The Dreaming Age. Credit where it is due, Howard does do a great job of making it feel like Kull predates Conan by centuries. 

If Kull, and Conan, are covered well by Wasted Lands and other Fantasy RPGs, then Kane is dipping right into horror.

Solomon Kane: A Puritan Without Witches

If Kull’s Atlantean dreamtime excludes witches entirely, Solomon Kane’s early modern setting seems tailor-made for them. The 16th and 17th centuries were rife with witch trials and burnings, and Kane is a zealous Puritan avenger. You’d expect him to clash with witches by the dozen. But he never does.

Instead, Kane’s foes are vampires, demons, revenants, and African sorcerers. Women in his stories are usually victims or innocents caught in evil’s path, never witches themselves. Was this deliberate on Howard’s part? Perhaps he didn’t want women as Kane’s outright antagonists, preferring instead to cast him against inhuman horrors or exotic magics.

One exception worth noting is Nakari from The Moon of Skulls. She is cruel, manipulative, and queenly, with many of the trappings of a witch, save for actual sorcery. She does have a coven of sorts, her "Starmaidens" and she knows some Atlantean rituals.  She rules through charisma and cruelty, not spells. And despite her names she is neither demon nor vampire. Kane’s crusade against her feels witch-hunter-like, yet Howard stops short of giving her magic. Again, we see the absence: Kane fights monsters, not witches.

Kane is adventure fiction, but it dips into horror and horror themes more often than not. 

Kull, Conan, and Kane make up an interesting trinity of Howard protagonists. All are cut from the same cloth and each could be a reincarnation of the previous.

Accidental Feminism?

Now, I do want to say upfront that Howard considered himself a feminist. He had some very progressive views for his time, but also some fairly typical ones. People are complicated. 

If Conan’s world has some witches and Kane’s and Kull’s are completely barren of them, what does that say about Howard? His female characters are sometimes villains (Salome, Tascela, Nakari), but they are also commanding presences, equal to or greater than the men who face them. When Howard leaves witches out, women almost vanish. But that absence makes it striking when he does put women at the forefront, because when he does, they are unforgettable.

Think of Bêlit, the Queen of the Black Coast, who is as fierce and ambitious as Conan himself. Or Valeria of the Red Brotherhood, a woman who makes her own choices and follows her own path. Red Sonya of Rogatino and Dark Agnes de Chastillon are not sorceresses at all, but warrior women who seize the agency the world denies them. These characters aren’t “witches” in the pulpy sense, but they are Howard’s women: strong, willful, larger than life, and often overshadowing the men around them. Red Sonya appears in one tale, yet "Red Sonja" has hundreds, including comics, novels, and a new movie out. Bêlit & Valeria have also appeared in plenty of comics together, often sans Conan, to prove they are interesting enough characters in their own right. Even if I am getting a bit of a Betty & Veronica vibe from them sometimes. Though Red Sonja has teamed up with Betty & Veronica in the past.

Bêlit, Red Sonja, (and Conan) and Valeria by Geof Isherwood

That duality shows up outside the stories too. In a famous letter to Harold Preece, Howard rattled off a litany of great women, from Sappho and Aspasia to Joan of Arc, Emma Goldman, and Edna St. Vincent Millay, defending their genius, passion, and rightful place in history. “Women have always been the inspiration for men,” he wrote, “and… there have been countless women whose names have never been blazoned across the stars, but who have inspired men on to glory.”  

Howard’s pulp tales are not feminist manifestos, but they carry a paradox I’d call his “accidental feminism.” In his fiction, women may be cast as temptresses, pirates, or witches, but they are never weak. And in his private words, he saw women as philosophers, poets, and warriors equal to any man. It may be accidental, but it left us with heroines and enchantresses who still burn as brightly on the page today as they did nearly a century ago.

Conclusion

There are more Robert E. Howard tales. Lots more, and many that could be fundamental to what the D&D experience was going to become. But here is where I part ways with the author. I found his sword & sorcery tales to be captivating, his horror stories fascinating, and his heroes equally as wonderful in their own imperfect ways. There is a reason why we all know of Conan and Kane, and to a lesser degree, Kull. Even his forgotten "step-daughter," Red Sonja.

When it comes to witches, Howard doesn't give me enough, though what he does give is wonderful. Salome and Tascela are fantastic characters who I would have loved to see more of, or more to the point, more like them. Too bad that they died in their respective tales; they would have made great antagonists for Bêlit, Red Sonja, and Valeria.

 There’s a moment that happens in every good fantasy RPG. It might not look like much on paper. A room description. A line of dialogue. A decision so small it barely draws attention at the time.

But something shifts. The torches are lit. The players lean in.

And the question lingers: Do you enter?

That’s the threshold.

To enter is not just to cross into a new place. It’s to leave something behind. Safety. Certainty. Sometimes even identity. And once you've stepped through, the world is never quite the same.

I think about this a lot when I design adventures. Not just dungeons or lairs, but those moments when the world opens up and becomes other. That heavy door groaning open into darkness. The portal that hums with a color you don’t have a name for. The standing stones that seem to lean in closer when you blink. These are not just places, they’re invitations. Rites of passage. The crossing over from the known to the unknown.

In the monomyth, it’s called the first threshold. In Campbell’s Hero’s Journey, it’s the moment when the hero accepts the call to adventure and moves from the mundane into the mythic. But I’ve always felt witches and warlocks experience this differently. For them, it’s not a line they cross once. It’s a cycle. A spiral. The path winds inward, deeper each time. Every doorway leads to another, and each one costs a little more.

Sometimes it's a literal entrance: the black iron gate of a cursed estate, the crumbling stairs beneath a ruined temple. Other times it’s less obvious. Opening a book you were warned not to touch. Answering a voice in your dreams. Saying “yes” to something without understanding what you’ve agreed to.

These moments aren’t about combat or treasure. They’re about change. The world shifts. The story deepens. And the characters, whether they know it or not, are no longer who they were on the other side of that door.

I try to honor that in my games. I give players the moment. I let them feel the weight of the threshold before they step through. I don’t need to say anything dramatic. Just a pause. A look. The air gets a little colder. The fire flickers once. Something remembers their name.

And then they enter.

Because they always do.

Questions

What. Nostalgic. Rule.

What rule am I most nostalgic for?  I miss the days when the thief class had more options for thief skills, beyond just a d20 roll for "Thievery."  While AD&D 1st Ed was great, I like the flexibility granted by AD&D 2nd Ed where you could distribute points into the skills. 

https://www.autocratik.com/ • https://www.castingshadowsblog.com/

 Sometimes I have the impulse control of a toddler. 

I saw this game, Witch Mountain, featured in a post (Gen Con, I think), and I thought, "Damn. I need that." So a quick trip to eBay and I found one, cheap, and still in shrink wrap. Plus it says right on the box, a game with "Witches & Dragons."  Sounds like the RPGs I have been playing for the last 45 years.

A few days later, it was mine. 

I pulled off the shrink and was treated to the game inside. 

The game board is neat. The objective is to get your colored pawns into the center, "Witch Mountain" before the other players, and avoid the witches and dragons flying around. 

Gameplay largely relies on the luck of the dice roll. Though it does have the nicest dice rolling cup I have ever seen in a game. Nice hard plastic lined with cork. The board is sturdy, typical of the 1980s. The play reminds me of "Sorry!" The dice are colored sides with a mix of the player colors and an occasional witch or dragon. 

Given the date of 1983 I can't help but think the "Witches & Dragons" is an attempt to grab some of that fantasy game market.

Traveller Envy

In my ongoing obsession with adding some board game experience to my Fantasy RPG and Horror RPG experiences, I have been thinking about how to add this. Obviously the pawns are all rival witch covens who need to get to the top of Witch Mountain. The witches flying around are the current occupiers of the mountains and the dragons do their bidding.

Come to think of it. It seems odd to me that I have not codified a more permanent "Witch Mountain" in my games. One of the milestone events in my love of witches was the 1975 Disney film "Escape to Witch Mountain" and it's sequel "Return from Witch Mountain." Although I was disappointed that there were no real witches in it, despite many of the trappings, I still loved the movies. The 2009 "Race to Witch Mountain" was also good. I will admit that I have always given any witch character I play TK and telepathy/empathy of some sort as my nod to Tia, played by Kim Richards, in the first two movies. 

I do have a set of mountains outside of my West Haven setting called "The Broken Mountains," which is my homage to the Brocken mountain in Germany. Given it's, and Pendel Hill's,  importance to witch lore ([1] and [2]), I really should have something.

I do have the Montblanc Family, and they come from near a "white mountain."  Maybe they are the witches in control of the Hexenberg. I have always said they were a very old, and very rich, witch family. Having control of a few dragons is not really a stretch for me to consider. 

So I hope to come up with some more ideas for der Hexenberg. Or even an adventure featuring the Witch Mountain. I have been wanting to write more adventures.

Links

• Witch Mountain at BGG

Some characters are made. Others are called.

In fantasy RPGs, we often talk about adventure as something that happens to the characters. A job they take. A dungeon they stumble into. A series of increasingly bad decisions with increasingly sharp consequences.

But sometimes… the story’s already waiting for them.

That’s destiny.

It’s the feeling that a character wasn’t just born to swing a sword or cast a spell, they were born to change the world. Or maybe to save it. Or break it.

And whether you believe in fate or not, it makes for a hell of a story.

The classic model, of course, is the Hero’s Journey, Joseph Campbell’s monomyth. The call to adventure. Refusal. Supernatural aid. Descent. Return. Transformation. It’s clean. It’s powerful. It’s the scaffolding behind everything from The Lord of the Rings to Star Wars to the better arcs in your home campaign.

But witches rarely walk the Hero’s Path.

They dance on it.

Their model isn’t a straight line; it’s a spiral.

A path that doubles back. That deepens. That re-enters old places with new eyes. It’s the Witch’s Spiral Dance, a sacred return. A reweaving of self. Not a quest for glory, but a journey inward and downward, until the truth is uncovered in the dark.

And that, too, is destiny.

In my games, I love to ask:

• Does this character believe they have a destiny?
• If not, what happens when they’re told they do?
• What happens if they refuse it?
• And what happens if they chase it too far?

Not every character needs a prophesied fate. Some are just trying to survive. But destiny has a strange way of catching up. That cursed sword didn’t find them by accident. That sigil birthmark? That wasn’t just cosmetic.

Even when you're winging it as a player, the story has a gravity. It pulls. It whispers. It tempts you with the idea that maybe… this moment was meant to happen.

And when you step into it? When the character finally sees themselves in the myth?

That’s magic.

That’s the moment when dice and drama and destiny line up. When a witch completes her spiral. When a hero returns home, changed. When the dungeon wasn’t just a hole in the ground, it was the crucible of the soul.

So sure, roll with the chaos. Make it up as you go.

But when the time comes? When the stars are right, and the door opens?

Step into destiny.

Questions

Why. Excited. Accessory.

Why am I excited about BLANK Accessory? For me it is an online visual character generator. Why, but I can create characters to use in my games without needing to hire an artist every time. I'll save that for things I want to publish. 

https://www.autocratik.com/ • https://www.castingshadowsblog.com/

 Not every message arrives in words. Some come as signs.

• A crow circling widdershins.
• A mirror that cracks without reason.
• A cold wind blowing from the east when the sky is clear.

In the occult, both in fiction and in real-world traditions, signs are how the unseen speaks. They’re not always obvious. They’re not always dramatic. But they always mean something.

Witches know this. Warlocks, too. They don’t just read books. They read the world. The patterns in the bark, the way the candle flickers, the strange arrangement of bones at the edge of a clearing. The world is a living grimoire, and every sign is a page waiting to be read.

I’ve always loved using signs in my games. They’re more than just flavor, they’re agency. A clue, a key, a message scratched into the world itself. Sometimes it’s overt: a vision, an augury, a rune glowing faintly on a stone altar. But more often, it’s subtle. A dream that changes after entering a cursed forest. A candle that won’t stay lit inside a ruined chapel. A tarot deck that keeps drawing The Tower, no matter how many times it’s shuffled.

The best signs don’t give answers. They ask questions. They don’t tell the players what to do, they ask if they’re paying attention.

And if you want to turn up the pressure, signs can act like story clocks. Foreshadowing. Countdown markers. A narrative fuse quietly burning in the background.

The third raven means the pact is broken.

 The red comet marks the return of something old.

 And when the stars are right… well, you know how that one goes.

From a DM’s point of view, signs are one of my favorite storytelling tools. They create atmosphere. They build tension. They reward curiosity. And they make the world feel alive, alive and watching.

From a player’s point of view, they’re invitations. To dig deeper. To question everything. To realize that maybe the dungeon isn’t the real threat, it’s what’s waking up beneath it.

So the next time something strange happens in your game, an unexplained sound, an uncanny shadow, a symbol that appears where it shouldn’t, don’t explain it right away. Let it linger. Let it breathe. Let it be a sign.

And watch what your players do with it.

 Because half the fun of prophecy is wondering if it’s true.

 The other half? Watching your players spin themselves in circles trying to figure it out.

Questions

When. Contemplative. Character.

Related to signs above, when should a Character be contemplative? Obviously, when trying to figure out whatever mystery I have thrown at them, and not in the middle of combat.  Their thought process can e a great role-playing device.

https://www.autocratik.com/ • https://www.castingshadowsblog.com/

Fantasy Friday Edition

Exploration is one of the core pillars of fantasy roleplaying.

But what does it mean to explore?

In Dungeons & Dragons, especially old-school editions, exploration often means mapping the dungeon one corridor at a time, or the world one hex at a time. Every turn is a decision, every door a threat, every torch a precious hour of light. There’s danger in the dark, but also treasure, and secrets the surface world forgot. It’s a gritty, tactile kind of exploration, and I love it.

In Pathfinder, exploration becomes more dynamic and often more epic. You’re not just crawling through ruins, you’re mapping uncharted wilderness, navigating complex cultures, and solving arcane mysteries baked into the world’s DNA. There’s a heroic scale to it. You’re not just surviving, you’re discovering your place in a mythic world.

In the Wasted Lands, the world itself is still waking up. You explore not only geography, but myth. You carve stories into the world that future ages will only dimly remember. Here, the ruins aren’t ancient, they’re being made. Exploration becomes a spiritual act. When you cross into unknown territory, you’re not following in footsteps, you’re making them.

Daggerheart invites a more emotional kind of exploration. The stories live just as much in who your character is as in where they go. The haunted forest is scary, sure, but what you fear might not be the wolves in the woods; it’s the memory of why you ran from home. Exploration here isn’t just a map; it’s a mirror. That’s no less heroic, it’s just a different kind of bravery.

Even in cozy fantasy games or weird narrative indies, exploration plays a role. Maybe you’re uncovering your grandmother’s secret recipes in a magical bakery. Maybe you’re exploring forgotten traditions in a village steeped in folklore. Discovery isn’t always tied to danger, but it always brings change.

Because that’s what exploration does in fantasy RPGs:

 It changes things.

You can’t go into the unknown and come back the same. The world shifts.  The character grows.  The player remembers.

Whether you’re following a raven into the deep woods, stepping into a glowing portal, sailing beyond the edge of the map, or just opening a door labeled “Do Not,” you’re exploring.

And that, to me, is the heart of fantasy gaming.

Not killing monsters. Not hoarding gold. But going where you haven’t gone before, and discovering what you didn’t know you were looking for.

So wherever your players are headed tonight, whether it’s a dragon’s lair, a crumbling keep, or a roadside tavern with one too many shadows, remember this:

Every great story starts with someone deciding to go a little further than they should have.

Questions

What. Proud. Lesson.

What lesson made me proud? I think it was back when I was teaching my kids to play. They both started very young and I used it as a means to teach them simple math. I think my oldest was about 3 or so, and when he finally "got it" and was doing all the addition and subtraction in his head, it was an excellent time for both of us.

https://www.autocratik.com/ • https://www.castingshadowsblog.com/

"Not all journeys begin on roads. Some start on broomsticks, others in dreams, or through a mirror no one else sees."

 - From the Journal of Larina Nix

A few days back, I talked about the Tavern as the iconic adventuring location, maybe as famous as the dungeon itself. But that’s only one, very early stop on the Journey. Capital J.

When I think of the Journey for characters, I can’t help but go full myth-nerd and drift back to Joseph Campbell’s The Hero with a Thousand Faces and the whole Hero’s Journey structure. That moment of Departure, when the character leaves the known world behind and enters the realm of magic, danger, and transformation? That’s the real start of the story. Not the tavern. Not the rumors. Not the first goblin in a dark hallway. But that choice, that first real step.

Now, for most D&D-style characters, that might be heading off with sword and/or spellbook, saying goodbye to the family farm, or signing on for a job in a shady city.

But for witches? It’s a little different.

Their journeys often begin in the unknown. It’s not “go out and find magic.” It’s “magic came calling, and now you’re part of it whether you like it or not.” It starts when the moon speaks. When the cat stares too long. When you dream of fire and wake with cinders in your hair. When you start to understand what the crows are saying.

Larina’s journey didn’t begin on a trail or caravan road. It began the moment she heard the voice of the Goddess, when she could see ghosts, and when she stepped behind her grandmother’s mirror and realized she could see her own reflection walking away.

That moment, the crossing of the first threshold, is crucial. And in gaming terms, it’s one of the most rewarding to roleplay, even if most of the time we skip right past it with a background paragraph.

But what if we didn’t?

What if we slowed down and let that Journey take shape in play? What if we saw the moment a young hedge witch received her first vision, or a would-be warlock stood at the edge of the Standing Stones, whispering a name they don’t remember learning?

Journeys matter. Not just because they get you from Level 1 to 20, but because they reveal who your character is, and what they’re willing to become.

And for witches, that journey never truly ends. It just spirals onward, like a sigil carved in bone, leading deeper into the mystery.

For witches I replace the circle of the Monomyth with the Spiral Dance.  

I'll come back to this more. 

Questions

When. Proud. Adventure.

When was my proudest moment in an adventure? So many, really. When my kids discovered the plot concocted by the demons to kill all the gods of the sun to invade the world. When they killed Strahd. When *I* killed Strahd nearly 30 years prior to that. When running Ghosts of Albion Blight and one group REALLY embraced their roles as the Protectors of Ériu. It's why I keep dong this!

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 I hope everyone had a great Gen Con. Sadly, I was not there, but I heard it was fun. I also heard that Daggerheart had sold out of its print run and had no copies left by Saturday. That is pretty cool, really. It's also still the #1 selling PDF on DriveThruRPG, a spot it has owned since its release. 

I was on DriveThruRPG today looking to see if any of the new games I had heard about at Gen Con had been released yet. I didn't find what I was looking for, but I did see something in my Personalized Suggestions; a bunch of new-to-me titles from Art of the Genre (the Folio people) featuring my favorite party girl rogues, Duchess and Candella. Most of these were for the FAST Core RPG System, which I know nearly nothing about. But there are a lot of titles featuring them. 

I remembered I covered a lot of the Folio Black Label books when I did my feature on Duchess and Candella, and there were some new ones (again, new-to-me) that I had not seen. I grabbed some more of the Folio adventures featuring them and one of the FAST Core D\&C books, which I might review later, but I'd like to get the core rules first. 

I do have the core rules for Daggerheart.

While I tend to gravitate towards witches, spellcasters, and the odd paladin type, I do love these two. Again, I imagine them as two party girls who love a good time and don't mind getting into a little bit of trouble if it means they are going to get some gold out of it. Art of the Genre has stats and extensive backgrounds for them both in The Storyteller's Arcana. It works, I can't disagree with them really other than I see them more as thieves and rogues rather than fighter-types. But hey, they have given these characters a lot more thought than I have. Still, for Daggerheart, I think I want to keep them as thief-types. Thankfully, there are two different Rogue "subclasses" I can try, the Nightwalker and the Syndicate.

Duchess

Level 2
Class & Subclass: Rogue (Nightwalker)
Ancestry & Heritage: Highborne Human
Pronouns: She/Her

Agility: 1
Strength: -1
Finesse: 2
Instinct: 0
Presence: 1
Knowledge: 0

Evasion: 12
Armor: 3

HP: 5
Minor Damage: 8 Major Damage: 15
Stress: 6

Hope: 2

Weapons: Longsword, Agility Melee, 1d8+3
Dagger. Finesse, Melee, d8+1 phy

Armor: Leather 6/13 +3

Experience
I will live the life owed to me +2 (when dealing with people of higher social class or money)
Candella is my sister in crime +2 (when dealing with rolls that can aid Candella)
So much gold and it will be mine +2 (when trying to steal or acquire wealth)

Class Features
Cloaked, Sneak Attack, Shadow Stepper, Believable Lie

Candella

Level 2
Class & Subclass: Rogue (Syndicate)
Ancestry & Heritage: Slyborne Human
Pronouns: She/Her

Agility: 2
Strength: 2
Finesse: 2
Instinct: 0
Presence: -1
Knowledge: 0

Evasion: 12
Armor: 3

HP: 5
Minor Damage: 8 Major Damage: 15
Stress: 6

Hope: 2

Weapons: Shortsword, Agility Melee, 1d8+3
Dagger. Finesse, Melee, d8+1 phy
Paired (Tier 1) +2 to primary weapon damage to targets in Melee Range.

Armor: Leather 6/13 +3

Experience
Life is a game, and I plan to cheat +2 (when any rolls are considered cheating)
Duchess is my sister in crime +2 (when dealing with rolls that can aid Duchess)
Gold! Wine! Adventure! +2 (when trying to steal or acquire wealth, or a good time.)

Class Features
Cloaked, Sneak Attack, Well-Connected, Enrapture

--

The great thing about Daggerheart is how you can create characters that really support each other and have that baked into the rules and rolls. 

Love how these two came out!

Witchcraft Wednesday Edition

In most games, when the party gathers for the first time, there's a fairly straightforward motive: treasure, fame, glory, revenge. Maybe they’re trying to save their village. Maybe they just need to pay off a bar tab. Whatever the case, the classic adventurer is easy to motivate. Dangle gold or justice in front of them, and they’ll go down into the dungeon willingly.

But witches and warlocks?

Their motives tend to be… different.

“She didn’t go into the ruins for gold. She went looking for the name she saw in her dreams.”

 - page, recovered from the bog near Meirath’s Hollow

Witches often aren’t chasing wealth. They might live in crumbling cottages or vine-covered towers filled with tea, bones, and books. They have what they need. Their magic doesn’t come from loot, it comes from knowing. From power earned through pacts, practices, and pain.

When a witch goes on a journey, it’s usually because something has shifted in the world:

• The stars have changed their alignment.
• A long-forgotten spirit has begun to whisper again.
• A charm buried under a tree has broken.
• A name has been spoken that should not have been known.

Their motive isn’t external. It’s internal, symbolic, spiritual. Sometimes it’s not even clear to them at first. But they feel it. A pull. A path. The wind shifts through the birches in a different way, and suddenly she knows it’s time to move.

Warlocks, too, have unique motives, but theirs are often tied to obligation.

 Their power comes at a cost, after all. And sometimes that cost is paid in quests, souls, or favors. Maybe they heard their patron whisper something in their sleep. Maybe they found a rune etched into the frost on their window and knew they had to follow it. Or maybe they have no choice. Maybe the pact has come due.

That’s the thing about occult characters in fantasy RPGs: their motives aren’t lesser or greater than the standard adventurer’s, they’re just deeper. More tangled in the weird threads of fate and prophecy and intuition. Sometimes they’ll ride alongside the party for gold and steel and good company, but eventually, something will pull them off the path. And that’s when the story really begins.

So next time a witch joins your adventuring party, ask her why she’s there.

 If she tells you it’s for gold, she’s lying.

 She already knows something’s coming.

 She just doesn’t want to be the only one standing when it arrives.

Questions

How. Optimistic. Accessory.

Hmm. How does a particular accessory keep you optimistic? 

As I mentioned yesterday, I often take the point of view of the characters. A while back, I got some art done of Larina. I don't remember which one it was, but around her waist she wore chain and it was threaded with dragon teeth. I had asked for a dragon tooth charm, and that is what I got back. I like to trust the artists with their vision, and this was a good choice. In my games from that point, it was a "charm" she wore to provide protection. While mechanically it added to her saving throws, I said it was something that gave her hope. She could collect all these dragon teeth and know she helped defeat those monsters, so whatever challenge was next, she could handle. 

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 "Before the first cleric lifted a holy symbol, before the first wizard penned a scroll, they were already here, gathering in moonlight."

- From the Journal of Larina Nix

A lot of what goes into the assumptions of D&D, or really any fantasy RPG, is that there were once glorious empires (or terrible ones), long before the current age. Civilizations rose, ruled, and collapsed. Names were lost. Gods were forgotten. Ruins now dot the land like scars on old skin. And the heroes of today walk through the bones of that forgotten world, looting what little wisdom and gold remains.

It’s a familiar formula. And it works. Even the Greeks did it with the Egyptians, and that’s where some of the myth of Atlantis comes from, trying to make sense of a culture already ancient when theirs was young.

We build that same idea into our games.

Why does this dungeon have magic no wizard understands?  Why is this sword sealed behind twelve runes in a language no one speaks?  Why are there pyramids on this island when no one remembers building them?

Because something came before.

 And whatever it was, it was older, deeper, and probably stranger.

But for me, “Ancient” doesn’t always mean “a thousand years ago.” Sometimes it means before memory. Before civilization. Before the gods got organized.

When Larina speaks of “they,” she means the ones who practiced the old ways before spells had names and magic had schools. The ones who made offerings in stone circles, who brewed potions by feel, who danced naked in the moonlight, not because it was part of a ritual, but because that was the ritual.

They didn’t even call themselves witches. They didn’t call themselves anything. They were simply those who knew.

And sometimes… still do.

That’s one of the things I love about Wasted Lands: The Dreaming Age.

 It flips the paradigm. The world isn’t ancient yet, but you’re playing in the mythic past that future bards will whisper about. You are the ancients, carving out the foundations of legend. The ruined towers in your 5e game? Yeah, maybe your hero built one of those. Or destroyed it. Or died there.

There’s a strange beauty to playing in the age before the age. You’re not unearthing forgotten relics, you’re making them.

And for witches, who remember too much and live too long, every new age is just another layer of dust on a story that began long before gods had names.

Questions

How. Contemplative. Character.

I often will contemplate what a bit of writing means from the point of view of the characters, or a specific character. With the quote above, I often view my witch writing from the point of view of the witches in the game. Like Larina or Emse or Amaranth. When doing my Forgotten Realms reviews I'll often take the point of view of the characters in that. Moria, Jaromir, or Sinéad.

It helps me get immersed in what the world looks like to those in it.

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 Monstrous Monday Edition

It’s a quiet night in the tavern (for yesterday!)

The fire has burned low. The regulars have stumbled home. The bard’s stopped playing and is asleep in the stables. Just you, your companions, the dregs of your drinks, and a few moments of rare peace.

Then the door creaks open and a message arrives.

Not a letter. Not a scroll. Not a pigeon with a satchel. 

A thing, bone-thin, cloaked in rags that hang like wet skin, with eyes like coins held too long in the mouth. It doesn’t speak. It simply places something on the table and turns to leave.

What did it leave behind?

That’s the start of the adventure I’m working on.

See, I’ve always loved the idea that not all messengers are human, or even alive. Some messages come from older places, places where ink isn’t used and paper doesn’t burn. Where secrets aren’t written so much as bound. And sometimes, the thing carrying the message doesn’t even understand it. It’s just a vessel. A warning. A test.

This whole adventure started with that moment:

 A creature. A message. A choice.

What do you do when something too old to name brings you a letter with your name on it?

What if the wax seal bears a symbol you saw once in a dream you forgot?

What if the ink moves when no one’s looking?

What if you break the seal and something breaks back?

The message in this case? It’s not a quest hook. Not exactly.

It’s a summons.

Something ancient remembers you.

And it’s time to remember it back.

That’s the thread I’m pulling on right now, something I’m weaving into the adventure that begins at the most clichéd tavern I could dream up. I want the players to laugh at the trope… until it gets quiet… and the thing at the door isn’t part of the trope anymore.

It’s part of the world.

And now, so are they.

Questions

When. Grateful. Genre.

When was I grateful for a particular genre? Hmm. I think that would have to be when I approached Christopher Golden about collaborating on a Buffy adventure for Eden Studios, and he instead asked me if I knew Victorian/Gothic horror. I stepped up and said I was practically an expert! I wasn't, I was just an enthusiastic fan, but it worked and that is one of the reasons why we all have Ghosts of Albion now.

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 I’ve been working on an adventure for a little while now, off and on, between other projects, late at night when inspiration strikes and I let myself go back to being just a DM for a while.

And yes, I’m going to start it in a tavern.

 Not a mysterious tower. Not a burning village. Not a cosmic rift in the sky.

 A tavern. 

(ok, to be fair, all those other things are going to show up as well.)

And not just any tavern.

 The most clichéd, wood-paneled, hearth-warmed, ale-soaked, smoke-filled tavern you’ve ever seen. There’s a fire in the hearth, a surly dwarf in the corner, a nervous man with a hood who keeps checking the door, and a barmaid named Tilly who’s much more than she seems.

Why? Because I love it.

We’ve spent the last few decades trying to subvert the tropes, and that’s good; it keeps things fresh. But sometimes, I just want to embrace the classic feel. I want it to smell like spilled beer and pipe smoke and wet cloaks. I want the players to know the adventure is starting the moment they walk through that door.

This adventure I’m writing is a bit of an homage. It draws from the games I played in high school and college, when our graph paper was full of hastily drawn rooms and our taverns were, honestly, just ways to get the party together before we threw owlbears or goblins at them. But those games mattered. And I want to recapture that feeling. Not just nostalgia, but the invitation that those early games always offered:

You are here. The world is waiting. What will you do next?

Writing this for others, though, is a whole different challenge. I’ve written plenty of adventures for my own groups, messy, notes-in-the-margins kind of things. But polishing it up for other DMs? That’s a skill I’m re-learning.

And I still need a name for the tavern itself. Something that feels like it could exist in any D&D world, just off a dirt road outside of town. The kind of place travelers mutter about and locals warn you not to drink the green stuff.

No idea what the name is yet, but I’ll figure it out.

For now, the fire’s warm, the mugs are full, and someone just walked through the door who shouldn’t be here.

Got a good name for me?

Questions

Who. Envious. Accessory. 

Back in the day, I was always envious of the guys who had lead minis AND could do a good job of painting them. Back then (1980s) gaming dollars were tight and lead minis were rare and an expense I could never justify. 

Today I am drowning in minis. Plastic minis are so much cheaper and I can get them pre-painted, printed in color, hire people to pain them, have my wife paint them (something she loves to do), or most recently, paint them myself. I am rather terrible at it to be honest, but looking to my left and my two most recent ones I can say I am getting better. Better than I ever thought I would be.

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Today's prompt is, well, Prompt.

Not every adventure begins with a map and a reward poster.

Sometimes, the adventure starts with a whisper you didn’t expect to hear. A shadow in the same place every night. A child saying something they shouldn’t know. The sound of something scratching inside the walls, but there are no mice, and the walls aren’t hollow.

These are the kinds of prompts I love best. The ones that feel like a dare from the world.

Sure, a good old-fashioned “Help us, adventurers!” hook is tried and true, and it works well. But what keeps me coming back, what really gets me writing, is when the prompt is uncanny. Subtle. Occult even. Note I will often use "occult" here in the original sense of "hidden" or "unknown."

It’s the dream you can’t shake.  It’s the name you don’t remember learning but now can’t forget.  It’s the cracked mirror in the old inn that only reflects one of the party members, and no one else.

These are the prompts that get the witch involved. The ones that pull the warlock out of their tower. That make the players sit forward in their chairs.

The best part? You can drop these kinds of prompts anywhere.

 The party’s resting in a sleepy village? One of the locals offers them tea and casually mentions that no one’s seen the moon in three nights. 

 They’re walking through a forest? A dead bird falls from the sky, but its body is still warm. Or maybe it is frozen solid. 

 They open a letter meant for someone else. There’s no writing inside, just a sigil, drawn in blood, that starts to glow faintly when it rains.

You don’t have to explain it right away. In fact, please don’t. Let it linger. Let it get under their skin, worm its way into their brains. Let the players dig. Let them argue over what it means. If they follow down the wrong path, let them go.

The Prompt is not the Plot. The Prompt is the door.

Let them decide whether to knock, kick it down, or walk away.

But if they walk away… it might follow.

Questions

Let's roll again!

Who, Excited, Art. "Who's art am I most excited to see in a book?"

I think it would have to have been Clyde Caldwell back in the day, or Larry Elmore. They defined the "old-school" look for me. 

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 Today is the start of the #RPGaDAY2025. 

This year, in addition to the prompts detailed below, I am going to write a lot on my Occult D&D project and some upcoming adventure ideas. It will help me focus on where those projects need to go.

We start this year’s #RPGaDAY with Patron, and I’m diving in with something near and dear to my design heart: Patrons for witches and warlocks.

Now, the usual suspects are easy to name; demons, devils, faerie lords and ladies, and Lovecraftian horrors from beyond the veil. And yes, I use all of them. Often. Enthusiastically.

But lately I’ve been thinking more about the other kinds of patrons. The less obvious ones. The ones that add flavor and complexity beyond the usual infernal bargain.

Here are a few I’ve been playing around with:

Dragons

Honestly, I should have done this ages ago. My oldest is dragon-obsessed, and I’ve lost count of how many dragon miniatures, plushies, and LEGO sets we have in the house.

Dragons are ancient, magical, and powerful. Why wouldn’t a warlock or witch swear themselves to a mighty drake of time or flame? Not just as treasure-hoarding monsters, but as elemental, almost divine beings with long memories and stranger agendas. Only the most ancient and cunning ones offer pacts, and they always come with a price.

Angels

This one’s a bit unexpected, but stick with me.

Crack open any New Age spellbook or Victorian spiritualist guide, and you’ll find incantations invoking angels, Raphael, Michael, Uriel, and so on.

Why should only demons offer deals?

The Watchers of Enochian lore taught witchcraft, after all. And their punishment? Eternal exile, watching their children, the Nephilim, fall. There’s something beautiful and tragic there. An angelic patron might offer guidance, power, or forbidden knowledge, but at what cost to their divine purpose?

Animal Lords

Briefly touched on this in one of my warlock projects, but worth revisiting. These are like the Archfey, but aligned with the primal wild. Lords of the Fox, the Raven, the Serpent, the Stag, each with their own ancient cults, taboos, and riddles. A warlock bound to the Panther Lord might wear shadows like a cloak. A witch devoted to the La Lechuza, the Owl Queen, might speak only in questions and dreams.

Witch Queens

When a witch becomes powerful enough, she doesn’t kneel to a patron, she becomes one.

Witch Queens are legendary figures of folklore and power. Some, like Aradia, are benevolent guides. Others, like Babylon, the Mother of Harlots, demand devotion, transformation, and sacrifice. These patrons are perfect for witches who walk the line between mortal and myth.

Daimons

Not demons. Not daemons. Not even spirits in the traditional D&D sense.

Daimons, in the Platonic and Gnostic traditions, are spirits of knowledge—divine intermediaries who speak in symbols, guide seekers to hidden truths, and sometimes lead them into madness. A warlock who binds themselves to a daimon may not fully understand what they've done. But the dreams come anyway. And the visions never lie.

Honestly, I have way more, an absurd number, really. But these are some of my favorites right now. I love patrons that aren’t just “here’s some spells, go cause chaos,” but instead add weight and weirdness to a character’s story. The best patrons change their warlocks and witches. Slowly. Irrevocably.

And that’s where the real fun begins.

Questions

There are also questions I can answer. So let's roll and see what I get. 

I got "How," "Grateful," and "Person." 

Translating..."Who is a Person I am Grateful for and How?"

Hmm...Assuming I am keeping this in the game sphere...I am going to say Len Lakofka. Len passed away a few years ago, but not before we could establish a good online correspondence. His articles in Dragon were some of my favorite, so being able to talk to him much later in my life was a real treat. I am sad to see he is gone.

 This week's Into the Forgotten Realms game was interrupted again. My oldest, Liam, wanted to go to Games Plus to buy a particular FFG/Edge Star Wars book. I had been wanting to go to pick up some paints and primer for all the demons and devils I have been printing out lately. 

Aside...don't expect to see many of my painted minis here. I am really just not that good, but looking over the Shadowheart I finished last night, I am getting better. 

Anyway, they didn't have the book he wanted, so he bought a bunch of others. Hey, he is a professional with a full-time job.  He can spend his money how he likes. He is saving for a condo so he can move out, and in truth, I am not rushing the professional live-in-chef out the door.

Game night became a session of character creation and painting. 

The new EDGE (previously Fantasy Flight Games) Star Wars RPG is fun. I am not a huge fan of a bunch of unique fiddly dice, but it seems fine here. He is starting a game with his group set during the Old Republic Days.

We had a blast, I even threatened to take my old Star Wars figures out of storage. 

While my fondness for the d20 Star Wars game is largely based on my desire back in the early 1980s to mix "D&D and Star Wars," this game is pretty good.  The books are gorgeous with a good mix of screen stills from the movies and art. Plus we keep remarking on how they had the "new book" smell.

We printed out some character sheets and got to work.

Ever since he was little, Liam loved Mandalorians. He has outgrown two different Jango Fett cosplay outfits, and he has a huge collection of Mandalorian Lego mini-figs and two (or three) Lego Slave-I kits. so he made a whole cadre of Mandalorian commandos. Which is also the next set of minis he wants me to paint. 

Of course, he was not the only one there with obsessions.

One of his players is playing a Nightsister. I told him I had a Nightsister mini he could use for it in my "witch box."  I told him he could have it.

I told Liam to offer the Bugbear first!

You already know where I am going with this. I mean if Liam recreated his iconic Bounty Hunter he plays in every game, and I am given the option of playing a goth, Force-wielding witch then what do you think I am going to do?

Jedis are so 1980s, new game, new (ish) idea.  Besides, I already had an action figure for her.

Larina Nix

Species: Human
Career: Mystic
Specialization Trees: Nightsister Witch

Soak Value 0
Wounds 11
Strain 13
Defense 0

Characteristics
Brawn 1
Agility 1
Intellect 2
Cunning 2
Willpower 3
Presence 3

Skills
General: Charm 3, Discipline 2, Medicine 1, Perception 2, Stealth 1, Survival 2
Combat: Melee 1
Knowledge: Lore 1, Outer Rim 1

Talents
Witchcraft: Force Rating +1
Summon Item: Duskblade

Force Powers
Conjure. Magnitude 1, Control 1
Move (aka TK). Magnitude 2, Range 1, Control 1

Force Rating 2

Weapons
Duskblade, Dam +3, Pierce 2, Superior. Summonable

Motivations
Faith (Natural World), Ambition (Enlightenment and Discovery)

Morality
Strength: Curiosity
Weakness: Obsession
Morality: 50

Gender: Female
Age: 25
Height: 1.6 meters
Build: Average
Hair: Red
Eyes: Blue

So who is this Larina? She is a brand new character (just 110 XP used). I figure she was left on Dathomir and raised by the Nightsisters. I am hesitant to say she is/was the only human on Dathomir because I know very little about Star Wars outside of the movies and Disney+ shows. But she is rare enough and at the time of the game she was the only human she knew. 

She is adventuring out into the galaxy to discover who she is and why she was left there. As she progresses, I want to give me more mental/psychic force powers.  I am not sure if she ran away from Dathomir (say like the Doctor) or was allowed to leave to further the goals of the Mother Superior (like Shadowheart). Either way she is discovering the galaxy is much, much larger than she knew. 

This allows me to play my favorite archetype with her, the country-girl/pagan visiting the big city. She is naïve, but not dumb, on the contrary, she is quite intelligent (strange that is exactly the sort of girl I married). I saw there was an option for religion, so she worships "The Winged Goddess."  I saw that and thought, if it was related to the Great Bird of the Galaxy, and almost immediately I began concocting a Star Wars/Star Trek crossover!

I'd also like her to get an astromech droid. Something that would act as her "familiar" and because I also loved those little guys. 

I am not sure how much of this game I will play. My son is very excited for it, but I'd love to get back to the Forgotten Realms sometime soon.

OH, and the book he wanted? Turns out it is a fan-made guide that we can download for free!

NOTE: It seems that Dathomiri are more or less human anyway. Ok. No worries.

 I am continuing on my journey through the titles of Appendix N, looking for the Witches that haunted those pages. This week, I have Part 2 of my overview of the Witches of Robert E. Howard, this time focusing on his horror tales.  As I covered in Part 1 of Howard, his DNA is deeply woven into the core of D&D. This is easy to see in Conan, the wandering mercenary (in many tales) having adventure after adventure. what I didn't expect was see so much, maybe even more, from his tales of horror.

Howard's horror runs all over the place.  He was obviously significantly influenced by Celtic history, especially with his Bran Mak Morn character, and a lot of these feed into his horror tales. There is a Conan-like character in his "The House of Arabu" doing battle with none other than Lilith herself and other demons. He even dips into Lovecraftian tales. Now, some people have called these "pastiches," but to me, they are nothing of the sort; they are original contributions to the mythos that are every bit as valid as Lovecraft's own and on par with Clark Ashton Smith. Where Howard shined, though, was "Southern Gothic"; he was to the south and south-west (esp. Texas) what Lovecraft was to New England. Many of tales are interlinked and there is some good opportunities for deep scholarship on how his tales link to each other and to his contemporaries (like Lovecraft) and even how his stories influenced others. I can't say for certainty, but his tale "The Haunter of the Ring" (already steeped in his own mythos connected to Conan) feels like it could have influenced Fritz Leiber's "Conjure Wife."  

What really surprised me was not that Howard was a good writer; he is full stop. But how great his horror stories are. Lovecraft himself sang Howard's praises, and he was worthy of them.

So who are the witches of Howard's Horror tales? Let's take a look.  Instead of going by witch, I am going to go by tale. Each witch is very much situated in each tale.

"Sea Curse" (1928)

Moll Farrell is an archetypical "Sea Witch." She lives in an old hut near the sea, where the tide almost comes to her doorstep, with her daughter. She collects shells and mussels and everyone thinks she is a witch. She proves it by laying a deadly curse on the two men who raped and killed her daughter. The men die, more or less, at each other's hands.

The tale drips with old-world superstition, the inevitability of doom, and the slow, creeping vengeance of the sea. Moll is an agent of vengeance and could have been found on a different coast on the Atlantic in some Celtic dream-hidden past.

The best part of the tale is the Ghost Ship filled with sailors who have committed foul crimes coming up from Hell to take the souls of the men. The image is fantastic. 

"Rattle of Bones" (1929)

A short Solomon Kane tale involving a haunted inn, a skeleton that rises from its resting place, and hints of ancient sorcery. Our "witch" here is an ancient necromancer from Russia who comes back from the dead for his vengeance. Not explicitly a witch, but the tale feels like it was ripped right out of a D&D adventure. 

"The Hills of the Dead" (1930)

Another pivotal Solomon Kane story where Kane teams up with N’Longa, a powerful African shaman and necromancer. N’Longa gifts Kane the magical Staff of Solomon, a potent artifact used to destroy vampires. N’Longa’s magic includes spirit possession and resurrection.

N'Longa's magic is called "voodoo" but that word wasn't used in Kane's time. The religious practices that went into voodoo (Vodún) did exist. 

Again, no explicit witch, though N'Longa is a great character, this tale is great for the abandoned city of vampires.

"Dig Me No Grave" (1937)

What would you get if Howard decided to write about the death Aleister Crowley 10 years before he died? You might get something very much like "Dig Me No Grave."

This tale deals with the temptation of forbidden knowledge. A scholar inherits an occult tome linked to a demon-worshipping cult. The story is Lovecraftian in tone, but the ritual magic and descent into damnation echo the witch-pact trope.

"The Children of the Night" (1931)

This tale is filled with ideas that Howard would come back to many times. 

First, there is the dream/reincarnation story that ties modern characters to ancient, savage rites. In later tales he even he explicitly links Conan and Bran Mak Morn to modern day people. 

Secondly, it features the Serpent People and hints at sorcerous cults and blood sacrifice. The Serpent People are the literary creature from whence a lot of D&D monsters spring. The Yuan-ti and Ophidians are the obvious ones, but in truth, these creatures bear more than a little resemblance to the class D&D Troglodytes. It might be that these were the root of those creatures. 

Third, and this one is big, it contributes to the Lovecraftian mythos by introducing the "Unaussprechlichen Kulten" of von Junzt. This is it's first appearance in print. This is one of the reasons why I say that Howard is not an imitator of the Lovecraftian mythos, he is a bona fide contributor. 

Lastly, the infamous "Black Stone," which will feature in many of his tales in one form or another.

"The Black Stone" (1931)

Speaking of which. This tale also features the Black Stone and "Unaussprechlichen Kulten." 

Arguably Howard’s most Lovecraftian tale. A monolithic stone and the rites performed there by a degenerate cult speak to primal, prehistoric sorcery. There’s an implied witch-queen who led the rites.  The monolith is now located in a village in Hungary called "Stregoicavar," meaning something like "Witch Town."  

Howard gives us a lot of history with ancient rites and even connects this to Margaret Murray's work on the Witch Cult of Europe. The toad-god the witches are worshiping is likely CAS;s Tsathoggua, a creature who would appear again in "The Thing on the Roof."

The Necronomicon gets name checked here as well.

"The Thing on the Roof" (1932)

This tale features forbidden books (Unaussprechlichen Kulten) , temple ruins, and an occultist who ignores all warnings. 

There is even a pre-Aztec Lich worshiping evil gods (likely Tsathoggua, but only described as a toad-like thing), and evil rituals.

I included this tale and the previous two not so much for their witches, but for their cults and their connection to the Mythos. 

"People of the Dark" (1932)

A man relives a past life where he was involved in betrayal and murder. This tale our narrator, John O'Brien, is the reincarnated Conan, and he enters Dagon's Cave to kill a rival for the hand of a woman. This one features almost everything. Conan, Lovecraftian connections, and even the Little People/Children of the Night. 

"Worms of the Earth" (1932)

Bran Mak Morn allies with a banished witch named Atla to awaken the Worms, ancient subterranean horrors, to take vengeance on the Romans. The story is primal, grim, and unrelenting. 

The worms appear to be another name for the quasi-human Children of the Night. The more and more I read about them the more I am convinced this where the D&D interpretation of the Troglodytes came from. 

Alta, the witch-woman of Dagon-moor, is one of our very few named witches. She is half-human and "half-worm" or Children of the Night. The implication here is that the Children were human or at least akin to humans.  She is human enough that her price to help Bran is that he must spend the night with her. Likely meaning there is some new half-human descendant of Bran out there now. 

This also features the Black Stone. Are these pieces all part of the monolith of ancient times? Hard to say. The piece that Bran uses is small enough for him to carry. 

Dagon's Moor, Dagon's Meer, and Dagon's Barrow are all mentioned here as further connections to the Mythos.

"The House of Arabu" (1952)

This tale was also published as "Witch From Hell’s Kitchen" though that title doesn't do it any justice. 

This tale features Pyrrhas, who is Conan in all but name really. Our main antagonist (well...) is Lilitu (really summoned by one of Conan's, I mean Pyrrhas's enemies), she appears very much as does the Lilitu of ancient myth with her mate Ardat-Lili. Of course Ardat-lilî is also a female demon (like the same sources as Lilitu) so imagine my humor when Howard describes Ardat-Lili as male. I guess somethings were still a bridge to far when he wrote this.

There are spells and the most interesting thing to me is the Lilith - Tiamat connection. Something I have explored more on these pages. 

"Black Canaan" (1936)

Southern gothic horror meets voodoo-style witchcraft. The antagonist is Zekura, a beautiful and deadly sorceress who wields spiritual power and commands zombies. She’s both feared and revered.

Normally I don't comment on the racism of some of these tales, but this one seem a bit much even for the time. Or maybe I just know how bad it actually was. Apropos of nothing, Lovecraft thought this was one of Howard's best tales. 

"The Haunter of the Ring" (1934)

A ghostly avenger stalks the land after being wronged in life. The haunting is linked to curses and violated oaths. No witches, but damn, this feels like it could have influenced "Conjure Wife."

It does feature the Ring of Thoth-Amon, a magical artifact possessed by a spirit that can possess its wearer. A form of sympathetic magic, where the curse leaps through the ages. This ring has appeared in Conan tales before. 

"Pigeons from Hell" (1938)

Howard’s most famous horror story. Southern gothic with heavy voodoo and ghost-witch elements. A woman in the Blassenville family turned to witchcraft and exacts revenge from beyond the grave as a zuvembie. Features zombified servants and spectral appearances.

Stephen King called this Howard's finest tale.

--

So there is a lot to dig into here. Howard obviously had heard of or read Murray's Witch Cult Hypothesis, since so many of tales embrace the central themes. Where Murray saw a continuous line of ancient fertility cults in a positive light, Howard saw an ancient pre-Christian and degenerate religion honoring dark, forgotten gods. In reality both points of view are as real as the other, and both suit my purposes well.

Moll Farrell and Atla are his main "named" witches, and each serves her role well. Moll feels like a solid Sea Witch, whereas Atla is something else. I have been exploring the concept of "Dragon Witches" within a tradition I've coined the Scaled Sisterhood. I could include ideas from ancient serpent cults too. 

Again, no "Conclusion." I want to venture deeper into the tales of Kull, Solomon Kane, and Bran Mak Morn for Part 3.

Photo by Pavel Danilyuk This week’s "Monstrous Monday" post isn’t a spotlight on a new monster or a dive into old-school related myths. Instead, I will talk about something more urgent: censorship. And no, not the hand-wringing, moral-panic kind from the 1980s. I’m talking about what’s happening right now on platforms like Itch.io and Steam, where a right-wing, conservative activist group is working hard to reshape what creators are allowed to make and what audiences are allowed to see.

So let’s get some background.

Recently, Itch.io, one of the best havens for indie games, visual novels, and tabletop RPGs (including a wide range of weird, odd, and experimental content), published a troubling update. They announced new changes to their adult content policy, citing legal pressures and platform hosting concerns:

• Update on NSFW content - Itch.io

They were, as expected, dragged on Bluesky. 

Meanwhile, Steam, the world’s largest digital distribution platform for games, began removing or suppressing adult titles, including ones that had been live for years. Devs have reported de-listings, warnings, and murky policy enforcement.

• Steam Tracker: List of games no longer available on Steam (click "Changed" to sort by date)
• Steam DB: Recent Events

At the center of this firestorm is Collective Shout (no, I am not going to link), an Australian evangelical anti-porn group led by Melinda Tankard Reist. This group openly brags about pressuring Valve (the company behind Steam), and even seems to be taking credit for Itch.io’s recent clampdown.

• Collective Shout's letter to the payment processors
• Wired: Steam and Itch Are Pulling Porn Games. Devs Say It's Censorship.
• Vice (archived): Group Behind Steam Censorship Has Powerful Allies*

(*Note: this is an archived article. Collective Shout convinced Vice to remove it.)

Collective Shout brands itself as a protector of women and children, but its tactics lean toward religious authoritarianism and a disdain for anything outside its narrow moral view. And their rhetoric? Let’s just say it’s unhinged enough that it would make Jack Thompson (you know, the Godfather of Censoring Video Games) raise an eyebrow. They’ve publicly accused creators of being “pedo-gamer fetishists” and cheered on the removal of queer, kink-positive, and sex-worker-inclusive games.

• PC Gamer: “Pedo-gamer fetishists” and censorship rules

Even Yoko Taro, creator of NieR: Automata, has weighed in, calling out how this sort of censorship affects global creative freedom.

• GamesRadar: “You can even censor another country’s free speech” – Yoko Taro

Let me be 100% clear: This isn’t about “defending porn.” This is about defending expression. Games, like books, films, and zines, explore all corners of the human experience, including sexuality, trauma, queerness, kink, power dynamics, and yes, pleasure. When we allow puritanical groups with political connections to dictate what stories can be told or which creators get silenced, we all lose.

Censorship doesn’t protect anyone. It punishes the marginalized, erases nuance, and sanitizes creativity until all that’s left is bland, corporate-safe pap.

More to the point, games (and really all media) that seem to be disproportionately targeted are ones with an LGBTQI+ point of view. 

• On itch.io, payment processors, and the developers and creatives affected

I have seen Collective Shout members described as TERFs (Trans-exclusionary Radical Feminists), but I can't confirm or deny that. 

Tabletop RPGs, like the ones hosted on Itch.io, have always thrived on the edges of queer voices, indie voices, outsider art, and strange ideas. If we let these spaces get steamrolled by a group with an agenda straight out of a 1980s morality panic or a 1990s purity pledge, we risk losing not just games, but an entire movement.

We’ve fought this battle before, whether it was Tipper Gore and the PMRC, Jack Chick and his satanic panic tracts, or TSR’s late-stage moral cleanup. And we’ll fight it again. Because games are worth defending. Art is worth defending. And freedom, messy, complicated, deeply human freedom, is always worth defending.

So what can we do?

No doubt, Itch.io and Steam caved to these internet bullies, but they were not given much of an option. The real fault lies with Collective Shout and the payment processors they contacted. But they could have handled it much better. 
Obviously, going after Collective Shout is precisely what they want people to do. These types of groups thrive on this and like to show how they are really the innocents, only thinking of the children, and the rest of the world is out to get them.  So, don't give them the satisfaction. They are not protecting anyone; they are just the next level of book-banners. 

• Support creators whose work is under threat. Buy directly when you can. Leave reviews. Share links. Seriously. This is the best thing you can do to help the creators.

• Push back on platform censorship. Write to Valve and other storefronts and ask for clear, fair policies that don’t buckle to extremist pressure.

• Contact Payment Processors. Pressure works both ways.

• Stay informed about groups like Collective Shout. Know what they really stand for.

• Speak up. Silence only helps the status quo, and that is how these groups win.

• Visit. https://stopcollectiveshout.com/ to learn more.

And please. Don't try invoking the 1st Amendment here. That is about protecting American citizens against having their speech impaired by the American government. This is a global situation. 
Full Disclosure Statement: I do not have any games on Itch.io or on Steam. This doesn't affect me at all, but that is not a good reason to stay silent.