Your people come from the far east, where over thousands of years they were pushed west, at several times facing extinction, assailed by an evil which cannot be named, which must not be named. As generations of your forefathers fell in battle in the rearguard holding off this unspeakable foe, the rest of your ancestors took flight west. During this bloody time, known as the Age of the Raven, your people were pitied by the gods, who granted them the knowledge to harness the spirits of nature into magic. At Tharsus the evil was destroyed by the cleansing light of Aurvandil, who cast the leader of the dark ones into the fires of the mountain bottom, throwing a shroud of ash into the sky. As those who must not be named retreated away, the host of your people, who are today called Ascomanni (‘Ashmen’), found themselves in a new and alien land, inhabited by a flourishing and affluent civilization and empire.
The Holy Empire stretched for thousands of miles in all directions, unified by imperial dominion, host to an emperor and a technologically advanced army. Writers of law, lovers of music, poetry and art, the Empire and its many wealthy cities were bastions of learning, civility and refinement, far surpassing anything the battle-exhausted Ascomanni were able to scrape together during their endless flight, the Age of the Raven. As the imperial dominions were already populated, the arrival of the Ascomanni came as a strain on the economy and land. At first the emperors sought to use the new arrivals as a tool to finally rid themselves of the petty kingdoms bordering the Empire and hired them out as mercenaries. Yet this was an insufficient measure, and still the east of the Empire was flooded by refugees, many of whom lived in dense ghettos, in filth, starving and yearning for more. While the Emperors offered relief from this situation on completion of imperial service, they broke their oaths, and so the Ascomanni stirred to war.
The Empire did not initially fear the action of the Ascomanni, as they inhabited only a small part of the periphery of the north eastern frontier, and instead of mobilizing a grand host rather sent the provincial army against them. Yet the Ascomanni were no strangers to war, having sharpened their society into a cult of battle and death by necessity. This, combined with their fearlessness and their ability to channel the magical craft, lead to disastrous routs for the Empire. Magic, it would seem, was the ultimate factor determining the Empire’s defeat, as the druids and warlocks of the people were able to decimate ranks of armored knights in oceans of fire without resistance. The imperial forces, which had grown complacently fat in their decadence, were battered, and soon the great cities of Empire were besieged and razed with yet unknown brutality. The petty kingdoms which had once been assailed by the Ascomanni mercenaries, located on the distant borders of the Empire, seized upon this time to also war against the Imperial crown. This time, in which the Empire was utterly destroyed , its population depleted or enslaved and its treasures plundered and lost, is known as the Time of Troubles in the imperial accounts and as the Wind Age in our own sagas.
Today our people most numerously inhabit Ascomania, the land of the Ashmen. Where there were once millions of people, now are thousands, such has been the toll of the murderous Wind Age. The great metropolises of the Empire are now petty kingdoms, inhabited by mere hundreds, and frozen fjords are dotted with small fortified hamlets comprised of dozens; these are the only settlements of human life. The monsters of the deep Earth, who once restricted to their dark burrows by the bustling industry of man, have returned to our forests and mountains, and terrorize the countryside with regularity and abandon. The countryside is strewn with ancient, fractured, fortresses, home to the spirits of slaughter and the decaying artifacts of war. A heavy fog suffocates the sky. With the mist come roused spirits and the ghosts of our ancestors lost in battle. Storms are regular, and the sun rarely shines radiantly, instead resigned to a foreboding and weakening twilight. The forests, once made safe by the steady work of imperial woodsmen, are places now where men do not tread, once again roamed by trolls, wolf men and giants. Few return from the forest, and those that do are so terrified from what they have seen that they often cannot speak. It is said that this plague of monsters, beings once thought to be only legend, is our punishment for the slaughter we inflicted upon the land. Whether it was the absence of man from the remote corners of the world which compelled the monsters to arrive, or whether it was the punishment of the gods, matters not, for the art of magic is no longer a trusted craft, instead feared or forgotten by the vast majority of people.
This is the Wolf Age, an age without civility, in which the few remaining inhabitants of the world have taken to piracy to sustain themselves. This is an age of warlords, where the weak cling to strongmen in hope of surviving the winter’s frost and the summer’s searborne raids, which bring bands of lusting warriors in longships. The cult of battle and glorious death, once a virtue during the Raven Age, had by this Age of the Wolf inspired cannibalism: our people war against one another. While many warbands sustain themselves by raiding neighbors or rally together in transitory alliances to harass the petty kingdoms now inhabiting the once great Imperial cities, your band, the people of hakonsfjord, have chosen a different path. A small band of no more than 50, your people have historically served as loyal mercenaries for the petty kingdoms, as well as profited from raiding the various centaur encampments to the south west.
While the plundering raids of the Ascomanni serve a ritualistic function and aim for the acquisition of wealth, the cursed race of Centaur inhabit a vast plain to the south west and annually mobilize a host to destroy our people, through the years leading to the obliteration of several hamlets and the reduction of the kingdoms. They are black hearted creatures, and roam the plains in great patrols, attacking on sight. It is said that they eat the dead and take no prisoners.
Our settlements are ruled by kings and chieftains, for the kingdoms and hamlets respectively. The chief acts as military leader, high judge and high priest and is elected by the Thing, a congress of free men, which is responsible for daily arbitrations. The chief is a descendant of Aurvandil and thus commands the service of his people; in return, he is to show the majesty and generosity of a godson. By his divine descent he is the "luck" of the people. The hamlets are comprised of four castes: the chief, the house men, the free farmers and slaves. The house men are the personal retinue of the chief, his knights, his bodyguards, and are privy to the highest status beside the chief himself. The house men must fight for the chief until death. The free farmers are those who cannot afford the armaments and campaign expenses of a house man, or lack the inclination or ability to participate as warriors. These men comprise the majority of the population and the Thing, and spend most of their time laboring their fields. They, as all men in the band, may be conscripted to fight during emergencies. The lowest caste, the slaves, are those who were lucky (or unlucky) enough to be spared during a raid, and were carted back to camp as plunder. They are powerless and at the mercy of their overlords.
The law of the people is simple: if you commit a crime, you must pay for it in a weregild (man tax). If you kill a man’s slave, you might be expected to pay 5 gold, but if you kill a house man, you might be expected to pay 500. If you are unable to pay this fee, the Thing decides your fate. Most are banished, and those who are exiled may be killed at will without penalty. Others are ordered to trial by combat, and must face a champion selected by those he has harmed. Ultimately the Thing decides the fate of the accused, and while the chieftain has the ultimate authority, he is by custom expected to stay out of judicial matters, except in outstanding circumstances.
The gods of the Ascomanni are many, but the chiefs of the pantheon are as follows. Aurvandil is the bringer of light, the lord of the sun, the remover of shadow and the patron of farmers, honor and fertility. As father of the gods, Aurvandil is worshipped by the majority of the Ascomanni, but especially by chieftains and kings, who claim his divine blood. Aurvandil is responsible for the wyrd, our destiny and luck. The great father wove the skane of your life many years ago. You can go and hide in a hole if you wish; you won't live a moment longer. The thread has been spun. The weave is set. Fear profits a man nothing.
Cern, the antlered god, is the lord of the forests and of beasts. Cern is also the king of the elves, a race of forest spirits he gave birth to in order to protect the trees and glades from molestation. Taranis, the thunderer, is lord of the seas and of storm, and his symbol is a thundercross. Worship of him is more common upcountry, especially by our people living by the North Sea. Hel, the decaying, is the goddess of The Gray Waste, the third and bottom realm, where those who have failed to die gloriously in battle go. She is also the queen of death and plague, as well as birth. Völund is the lord of anvils, smiths, stone and creation. Ermun is the patron of warriors and of glorious battle, who commands the shield maidens of the Great Hall, spirits who carry those slain in battle to their final resting place. We worship the gods through song, poetry, battle and a sacrifice of animals during the month of Blood. The trees and stones of our realm are filled with spirits, many with a wyrd of their own, they may trick or harm us, or they may help us, depending on the purity of our heart.
Ritual binds our people together, and most importantly, our men to the chieftain. In the Symbel ritual, a great hall is filled with the members of the band, who pledge oaths to the strongman, give speeches, exchange gifts and drink from his mead horn. This marries the housemen to the chief, as a man to a descendant of Aurvandil. In this fashion the housemen of a chief are not only soldiers, or mercenaries waiting for riches, but partake in a sacred promise bound by their honor and blood. It is this sort of ritual which we now find ourselves in…
Cruniac of the Hundred Battles, Serpent
(1st level Lawful
Good Ghosthunter/Paladin)
Physical:
Age: 43
Weight: 174
Height: 5’ 11’’
Statistics:
Strength: 17
Dexterity: 12
Constitution: 9
Intelligence: 11
Wisdom: 14
Charisma: 17
Special
Items/Abilities:
Deathless Cuirass (Bronze Plate Mail, AC 4, 15 lbs)
Deathless Hoplon (Bronze Large Shield, 7 lbs), strapped to his back
The armor of the deathknight Alric the Black, who Cruniac smote while still a page.
Zweihander (Great Sword, +1 bonus to damage)
Ancient History (subterranean world)
Personality:
Secondary Skill: Armorer
Traits/Quirks: Sardonic, serious, deliberate, dreadful, eagle eyes, detached, courageous
Background:
Cruniac is a scarred and mottled knight who has clearly had too many close encounters with the dark things of the night, causing him to look much older than his true years. You are a lieutenant of the enigmatic and elusive Nathair Sochaí (Serpent Society), a decentralized order of often solitary ghosthunters devoted to destroying the undead. A disciple of Aurvandil, the sun lord, you are tasked with filling crypts with light. You are traveling with the warband upriver, summoned by the Society to join the congress there, which is forming to respond to a dark force growing in the north.
Alignment:
Lawful Good: Characters of this alignment believe that an orderly, strong society with
a well-organized government can work to make life better for the majority of the people.
To ensure the quality of life, laws must be created and obeyed. When people respect the
laws and try to help one another, society as a whole prospers. Therefore, lawful good
characters strive for those things that will bring the greatest benefit to the most people
and cause the least harm. An honest and hard-working serf, a kindly and wise king, or a
stern but forthright minister of justice are all examples of lawful good people.
Angvard, Chieftain (Hersir)
(1st level Lawful
Good Fighter)
Physical:
Age: 34
Weight: 220
Height: 6’ 1’’
Statistics:
Strength: 18/67
Dexterity: 11
Constitution: 16
Intelligence: 11
Wisdom: 12
Charisma: 15
Special
Items/Abilities:
Inheritance from Hygelac (Triple the standard starting gold)
Balmung (Sword/Spear/Axe +1)
Your father’s steel, inherited upon his recent death. It has been an heirloom of the band since the time of your father’s father. It is said to have been made by dwarves, who saved by your grandfather from some centaurs, gifted it to him. It is also said to be imbued with an earth spirit. While visibly wielding this weapon those of your warband within sight receive a +1 to morale.
Hersir –You are the warband’s chieftain, members in the field must obey your orders as in a military unit. You have only influence, not control, over domestic issues though. The Thing, a democratic council of free farmers, handles the domestic administration of the band.
Personality:
Secondary Skill: Sailor.
Traits/Quirks: Wise, fearless, respectful, manly, heroic, eagle eyes, able to defer to experts, pious, man of few words, deliberate, unrelenting, ship navigator, tactician
Background:
Your father Hygelac was slain several days ago during a raid on the centaurs to the south west. Accordingly, you are now the heir apparent of a 50 member warband, which has a fortified hamlet at Hakonsfjord. You are to honor the alliances your father made: with einarsfjord and hedgwick and hopefully die with a sword in your hand, as your father did. As one of the smallest warbands now inhabiting what once was the Empire, your company has historically served as mercenaries and raiders of the centaur dominions. You are steward and captain to your people. Rely on your lieutenants Helfdane and Egil.
Alignment:
Lawful Good: Characters of this alignment believe that an orderly, strong society with
a well-organized government can work to make life better for the majority of the people.
To ensure the quality of life, laws must be created and obeyed. When people respect the
laws and try to help one another, society as a whole prospers. Therefore, lawful good
characters strive for those things that will bring the greatest benefit to the most people
and cause the least harm. An honest and hard-working serf, a kindly and wise king, or a
stern but forthright minister of justice are all examples of lawful good people.
Egil of the Nine Wounds, House Man (Housecarl)
(1st level Neutral
Good Scout/Thief)
Physical:
Age: 31
Weight: 170
Height: 5’ 10’’
Statistics:
Strength: 14
Dexterity: 17
Constitution: 11
Intelligence: 14
Wisdom: 10
Charisma: 9
Special
Items/Abilities:
Reiftyr (Trained Gyrfalcon, only responds to Egil, can know 5 tricks/commands of your choosing, gives a +3 bonus on any navigation/tracking/hunting checks when deployed, can hunt and retrieve game. Avian prey can range in size from redpolls to geese and can include gulls, corvids, smaller passerines, waders and other raptors up to the size of Buteos. Mammalian prey can range in size from shrews to marmots, sometimes 3 times heavier than the assaulting falcon, and often includes include lemmings, voles, ground squirrels and hares.)
Personality:
Secondary Skill: Hunter.
Traits/Quirks: Few words, loner, agile, prefers solitude in nature, meticulous, exacting, tough, resourceful, tactician, brave, professional
Background:
You are an invaluable member of the warband, serving as a scout, tracker and hunter. Known for your acute intelligence, awareness of strategy, and reliability, you take point during patrols and raids, carefully guiding your brothers to tactical advantage. Your title comes from a near-fatal run-in with a grizzly bear, in which you were pierced by nine teeth. You managed to slay the bear with a jack knife, but the wounds still ache when it rains.
Alignment:
Neutral Good: These characters believe that a balance of forces is important, but that
the concerns of law and chaos do not moderate the need for good. Since the universe is
vast and contains many creatures striving for different goals, a determined pursuit of
good will not upset the balance; it may even maintain it. If fostering good means
supporting organized society, then that is what must be done. If good can only come
about through the overthrow of existing social order, so be it. Social structure itself has
no innate value to them. A baron who violates the orders of his king to destroy something
he sees as evil is an example of a neutral good character.
Nertha, Oracle
(1st level Neutral
Diviner)
Physical:
Age: 62
Weight: 110
Height: 4’ 11’’
Statistics:
Strength: 8
Dexterity: 9
Constitution: 8
Intelligence: 16
Wisdom: 19
Charisma: 7
Special
Items/Abilities:
Channel Spirits: An oracle, you are the medium between the world of spirit and the Middle Realm. Accordingly, your body may be possessed by the many gods and spirits of the cosmos to reveal secrets of the future or receive other insights, although frequently in the form of riddles, rambles and contradictory terms. Once per day you may invite these spirits to possess your body. Accordingly, you lose control of your character and she begins to speak rapidly in tongues after going into a violent, convulsing trance. Sacrifices, the weakest being foodstuffs (+5%) and the most powerful being livestock (+20%), increase the base chance of an intelligible response, as does the help of an interpreter with a wisdom of at least 12 (+10%).
Ancient History (The Wind Age)
Ancient History (The Raven Age)
Personality:
Secondary Skill: None.
Traits/Quirks: Rambling, withdrawn, catatonic, speaks in tongues, claims to see the future, haggard, frightening, mad, in a stupor, harsh, ugly, mesmerizing, lyrical, otherworldly
Background:
You are the band’s reader of bones, an oracle, the bridge between the spirits of the air and earth and the mundane Middle Realm. Having spent your life as a conduit for the gods, you are no longer quite sane, no longer quite coherent, blessed with superhuman insights and perceptions that humble the seemingly pointless daily events that surround you. The band relies upon you for guidance; you virtually decide the direction of the most important decisions. Even the Chieftains must bow to your words and take them into serious consideration, violating the words of an oracle is considered to be sacrilege and a most serious breach of tradition, for their strange and seemingly arbitrary rambles are said to derive directly from the gods themselves. Through your divine possession you catch glimpses of the future, the primordial past and vistas far removed.
Alignment:
True Neutral: True neutral characters believe in the ultimate balance of forces, and
they refuse to see actions as either good or evil. Since the majority of people in the world
make judgments, true neutral characters are extremely rare. True neutrals do their best to
avoid siding with the forces of either good or evil, law or chaos. It is their duty to see that
all of these forces remain in balanced contention.
True neutral characters sometimes find themselves forced into rather peculiar alliances.
To a great extent, they are compelled to side with the underdog in any given situation,
sometimes even changing sides as the previous loser becomes the winner. A true neutral
druid might join the local barony to put down a tribe of evil gnolls, only to drop out or
switch sides when the gnolls were brought to the brink of destruction. He would seek to
prevent either side from becoming too powerful. Clearly, there are very few true neutral
characters in the world.
Helfdane the Joyous, House Man (Housecarl)
(1st level Chaotic
Good Skald/Bard)
Physical:
Age: 31
Weight: 210
Height: 6’
Statistics:
Strength: 15
Dexterity: 13
Constitution: 12
Intelligence: 14
Wisdom: 10
Charisma: 17
Special
Items/Abilities:
Battle Horn (Goat horn)
Ancient Language (Rune Alphabet)
Ancient Language (Imperial)
Reading and Writing
Personality:
Secondary Skill: Scribe
Traits/Quirks: Boisterous, courageous, light hearted, lush, womanizer, witty, likeable, serious/abstinent before and during battles
Background:
You are the chronicler, warrior poet and herald of the warband. Loved by your kinsmen for your heroic songs and tales, as well as your happy character, you are also one of the most educated men, privy to the ability to read and write in the language of the Empire and the ancient runes. You are also occasionally employed as an envoy and diplomat. On one such journey a decade ago, you traveled and stayed at the fortified city and kingdom of Leptus for several months, during which time you were invited by King Haakon to the imperial library. Here you were you were able to access and learn from the classical texts. For purposes of your bard kit, this negates the Skald hindrances.
Alignment:
Chaotic Good: Chaotic good characters are strong individualists marked by a streak of
kindness and benevolence. They believe in all the virtues of goodness and right, but they
have little use for laws and regulations. They have no use for people who "try to push
folk around and tell them what to do." Their actions are guided by their own moral
compass which, although good, may not always be in perfect agreement with the rest of
society. A brave frontiersman forever moving on as settlers follow in his wake is an
example of a chaotic good character.
Bestla
(1st level Neutral
Dryad Druid)
Physical:
Age: Appears to be in her early 20s (is actually 483 years old)
Weight: 120
Height: 5’ 9’’
Statistics:
Strength: 9
Dexterity: 14
Constitution: 10
Intelligence: 15
Wisdom: 17
Charisma: 11
Special
Items/Abilities:
Incantation
of Awakening
Forest
Meld
Commune
with Nature
Soul
Linked
Personality:
Secondary Skill: Navigator
Traits/Quirks: Angelic, wise, serene, peaceful, explosive anger, graceful, indifferent to mortals
Background:
All you remember is being woken to the sound of ethereal sirens and scratching days ago. Your mind was for a time a trap, and you were violently awoken from the warm embrace of Angantyr by this racket. After some time you were able to temper your thoughts to calm by praying to the great antlered lord, Cern. The forest is being defiled and you are roused from your sleep to preserve it.
***
Dryads are beautiful, intelligent tree sprites. They are as elusive as they are alluring, however, and dryads are rarely seen unless taken by surprise-or they wish to be spotted.The dryads exquisite features, delicate and finely chiseled, are much like an elf maiden's. Dryads have high cheek bones and amber, violet, or dark green eyes. A dryads complexion and hair color changes with the seasons, presenting the sprite with natural camouflage. During the fall, a dryads hair turns golden or red, and her skin subtly darkens from its usual light tan to more closely match her hair color. This enables her to blend with the falling leaves of autumn. In winter, both the dryads hair and skin are white, like the snows that cover the oak groves. When encountered in a forest during fall or winter, a dryad is often mistaken for an attractive maid, probably of elvish descent. No one would mistake a dryad for an elf maid during the spring and summer, however. At these times of year, a dryads skin is lightly tanned and her hair is green like the oak leaves around her.
Dryads often appear clothed in a loose, simple garment. The clothing they wear is the color of the oak grove in the season they appear. They speak their own tongue, as well as the languages of elves, pixies, and sprites. Dryads can also speak with plants.
Alignment:
True Neutral: True neutral characters believe in the ultimate balance of forces, and
they refuse to see actions as either good or evil. Since the majority of people in the world
make judgments, true neutral characters are extremely rare. True neutrals do their best to
avoid siding with the forces of either good or evil, law or chaos. It is their duty to see that
all of these forces remain in balanced contention.
True neutral characters sometimes find themselves forced into rather peculiar alliances.
To a great extent, they are compelled to side with the underdog in any given situation,
sometimes even changing sides as the previous loser becomes the winner. A true neutral
druid might join the local barony to put down a tribe of evil gnolls, only to drop out or
switch sides when the gnolls were brought to the brink of destruction. He would seek to
prevent either side from becoming too powerful. Clearly, there are very few true neutral
characters in the world.
Incantation of Awakening: Through an incantation of the ancient and hidden tongue of the dryads Bestla is able to channel nature spirits to bring to life trees, roots and other plants, transforming them into allies. The animated plants feel compelled to aid the dryad, but are not powerless to resist orders.
* One plant or tree may be targeted per round, the incantation counts as a minor action.
* Allies remain animated for 1 round/level, then re-root themselves.
* May choose to use her incantation as Entangle as an equal level priest.
At third level:
* Once per week Bestla can exhaust herself to summon a more powerful form of the incantation (Greater Incantation of Awakening). This spell targets all plants in a 30' radius, up to 30 feet/level away from the caster. This incantation takes 1 round to channel but otherwise has the same rules as the standard incantation.
At sixth level:
*Greater Incantation of Awakening causes Silence (as priest spell of same level) around Bestla, as it must be sung with deafening power.
Commune with Nature: Bestla can speak with plants, as well as pixies, sprites and elves. Does not leave tracks. Heals at quadruple the normal rate while in her home forest. Accordingly, Bestla feels a deep spiritual connection with nature and is compelled to defend it.
Forest Meld: Bestla can magically disappear from sight while in a natural woodland environment by melding into the flora once per every three levels. Combat actions reveal her. In addition: pigments and tissues camouflage as a chameleon while in wooded areas, allowing her to also use hide in shadows as per the thief ability at a 70% chance as long she remains in such an area.
Soul Linked: Bestla
is linked to the soul of the great oak Angantyr. Any damage the tree takes, she does as well. She feels weakened
when not in the forest home to her linked tree. This weakness becomes
progressively worse; she must visit her home glade once per week for a minimum
of one hour or face the consequences. If derelict in this regard she will lose
one maximum hit point per day until she disintegrates. Any attack on a dryad’s
tree will, of course, bring on a frenzied defense by the dryad. If she is within 360 feet of Angantyr, he
may animate as a 12 HD Treant at will.
Andvari
(1st level Chaotic
Good Huldre Mage)
Physical:
Age: Appears to be in his late 30s (As far as you know, timeless, at least thousands of years old)
Weight: 170
Height: 6’ 2’’
Statistics:
Strength: 11
Dexterity: 17
Constitution: 12
Intelligence: 18
Wisdom: 15
Charisma: 10
Special
Items/Abilities:
Invisibility (at will)
Polymorph Self (once per day)
Teleport Without Error (once per week, only to home burrow)
Commune with Nature
Huldre (Language)
Ancient History (The Raven Age)
Ancient History (The Wind Age)
Commune with Nature: Andvari can speak with plants, as well as pixies, sprites and elves. Does not leave tracks. Heals at quadruple the normal rate while in his home forest. Accordingly, Andvari feels a deep spiritual connection with nature and is compelled to defend it.
Personality:
Secondary Skill: None.
Traits/Quirks: Mischievous to those who agitate him, serene, wise, indifferent to mortal affairs, territorial, otherworldly, riddler, skeptical, witty, angelic, protective of nature and spirits, sardonic
Background:
All you remember is being woken to the sound of ethereal sirens and scratching days ago. Your mind was for a time a trap, and you were violently awoken from the warm embrace of your barrow by this racket. After some time you were able to temper your thoughts to calm by praying to the great antlered lord, Cern. The forest is being defiled and you are roused from your sleep to preserve it.
***
Your race is that of the huldre, the “hidden folk,” a sort of elf that inhabits barrows deep in the forest and on the borders of the farms and homesteads of the hamlets. Solitary creatures, you spend many hundreds of years in an eventless slumber, only awoken by intruders into your domain and the wailing of injured forest spirits. For those lost in the wood who show respect to the gods and are of an innocent spirit, you might give safe passage back to the path, but those who come seeking for treasure, hoping to loot your barrow’s magical trinkets, you attack with fury and little mercy for the “monkeys,” man. For you, men are animals, and their transitory lifespans are a topic of little concern. Instead, you are concerned with the wellbeing of ancient trees, glades, rocks, and the ageless spirits that inhabit them, the harmony of the overall world.
Barrow:
Your home is a large barrow: a seemingly innocuous earthen mound covered in high grasses and flowers. Upon closer inspection, one finds a rune stone atop it, marked with a stark warning: “This is the home of Andvari, for those who spoil this glade, you shall meet oblivion.” A stone door is fit into the side of the barrow, decorated with dimly glowing blue sigils and inscriptions, written in your own language. It is impossible to open this door with any mundane means, it is completely impervious to non-magical meddling. Dispel Magic, as cast by at least a 9th level mage, can temporarily disarm the protections, although a Knock spell is further required to open it. Of course, Andvari can open it telepathically or by the use of a command word. While the home inside looks mundane, once someone steps inside, they find themselves looking into a black abyss if they turn around, for the barrow is its own pocket plane, a small but separate plane of existence. Time in the barrow is relativistic: sometimes a day is a month, sometimes it is a year; this is random unless consciously controlled by Andvari. If Andvari is sleeping in the barrow and another being comes within 360’ of it, he will awake in real time. You are telepathically alarmed if an intruder enters your barrow, and may Teleport Without Error to confront whatever did, even if you already did so that week.
Alignment:
Chaotic Good: Chaotic good characters are strong individualists marked by a streak of
kindness and benevolence. They believe in all the virtues of goodness and right, but they
have little use for laws and regulations. They have no use for people who "try to push
folk around and tell them what to do." Their actions are guided by their own moral
compass which, although good, may not always be in perfect agreement with the rest of
society. A brave frontiersman forever moving on as settlers follow in his wake is an
example of a chaotic good character.