TEXT:  
  1 
  THE BOOK OF 
  SHADOWS 
  A Netbook for the Ravenloft and 
  Gothic Earth Settings 
  Edited by the Kargatane: 
  Joe Bardales ! Andrew Cermak ! Andrew Hackard 
  John W. Mangrum ! Stuart Turner! Andrew Wyatt 
  Articles Contributed by: 
  Christopher Adams ! Daniel Bandera ! Eldred Black ! Timothy S. Brannan ! Andrew 
  Cermak ! James “The Madman” Dalton ! Eric Daniel ! Luis Fernando De Pippo ! Dion 
  Fernandez ! Robert A. Gombach ! Friedrich Gothe ! Mark “Mortavius” Graydon ! 
  Andrew Hackard ! Jaleigh Johnson ! Stefan MAC ! John W. Mangrum ! Ari & George 
  Marmell ! Michael Massey ! Hugo Viegas Nascimento ! Ryan Naylor ! Luiz Eduardo 
  Neves Peret ! Dustin “Grigg Deadbreaker” Rathbun ! Wes Schneider ! Andy “Socko” 
  Snow ! Mike S.W. ! Stuart Turner ! Andrew Wyatt 
  Notes from the Kargatane: 
  All submissions have been edited to use Americanized spelling. This was done simply to give THE BOOK OF SHADOWS a more coherent 
  appearance, and should not be meant as a slight against our Anglicized authors. 
  THE BOOK OF SHADOWS Release Date: October 31, 2000 (taking the gremlins into account). 
  Legal Notice: 
  AD&D, DUNGEONS &DRAGONS, D&D, DUNGEON MASTER, RAVENLOFT, MASQUE OF THE RED DEATH, and DARK SUN are registered trademarks 
  owned by Wizards of the Coast, Inc. This book does not represent a challenge to any Wizards-held trademarks. Wizards of the Coast is not 
  officially affiliated with the content of this book in any way. All articles are copyright 2000 by their respective creators unless otherwise noted. 
  This netbook may be reproduced for personal use, but may not be used to generate revenue. 
  Visit the Secrets of the Kargatane at http://www.kargatane.com, the Official Home of Ravenloft on the Net! 
  
  THE BOOK OF SECRETS 
  2 
  RAVENLOFT 
  Preface 
  004. 
  Introduction 
  005. 
  Running Ravenloft 
  Even More Fun & Games 
  013. 
  By Andrew Hackard 
  Terrible Transformations 
  017. 
  By the Kargatane and the Ravenloft-L List 
  ! Fear and Loathing in Third Edition 
  029. 
  By John W. Mangrum 
  People 
  The Tale of the Lady of the Lake 
  040. 
  By Ryan Naylor 
  Father Guran 
  046 
  By Christopher Adams 
  Eduard Duvoir 
  049. 
  By Stefan MAC 
  ! Dr. Henry Wollcote 
  052. 
  By Friedrich Gothe 
  Umbran, the Shadow Lich 
  055. 
  By Eric Daniel 
  ! Sir William Canifax 
  058. 
  By Andrew Cermak 
  The Interpretation of Dreams 
  063. 
  By Friedrich Gothe 
  The Red Wolf 
  074. 
  By Andy “Socko” Snow 
  The Society of Huntsmen 
  078. 
  By Dustin “Grigg Deadbreaker” Rathbun 
  The Order of Twilight 
  084. 
  By James “The Madman” Dalton 
  ! The New Guys in Vallaki 
  092. 
  By Andrew Wyatt & Andrew Cermak 
  Places 
  Tsuu-Y-Teke 
  096. 
  By Luiz Eduardo Neves Peret 
  Vultharesk 
  104. 
  By Ari Marmell with George Marmell 
  Mictlan 
  110. 
  By Ryan Naylor 
  Things 
  New Monsters for Nosos 
  117. 
  By Luis Fernando De Pippo 
  Owlmay 
  120. 
  By Hugo Viegas Nascimento 
  ! Children of the Nightless Land 
  123. 
  By Andrew Wyatt 
  Skeleton, Hive 
  134. 
  By Dustin “Grigg Deadbreaker” Rathbun 
  ! Under the Hands of Hags 
  136. 
  By Wes Schneider 
  Wereglutton 
  140. 
  By Michael Massey 
  ! Patchwork Folk 
  142. 
  By Andrew Wyatt 
  Elemental Corruption 
  144. 
  By Mark “Mortavius” Graydon 
  Spitting Cobra 
  152. 
  By Robert A. Gombach 
  Infestation 
  154. 
  By Wes Schneider 
  Witch Ritual Tools 
  158. 
  By Timothy S. Brannan 
  The Mask of Sorrowful Beauty 
  161. 
  By Luiz Eduardo Neves Peret 
  Player Character Rules 
  ! The Vocalist 
  165. 
  By Wes Schneider 
  Interlude 
  167. 
  Articles marked with ! utilize DUNGEONS & DRAGONS, Third Edition rules. 
  For in and out, above, about, below, 
  ‘Tis nothing but a Magic Shadow-show, 
  Play’d in a Box whose Candle is the Sun, 
  Round which we Phantom Figures come and go. 
  —Edward Fitzgerald 
  “Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám” (1859).
  
  THE BOOK OF SECRETS 
  3 
  MASQUE OF THE RED DEATH 
  Running Gothic Earth 
  Shadows of Blue and Gray 
  176. 
  By Jaleigh Johnson 
  People 
  Danylo Denisovich Známia 
  183. 
  By Daniel Bandera 
  Sir Andrew Sinclair 
  185. 
  By Luis De Pippo 
  Dame Alice Kyteler 
  189. 
  By Hugo Viegas Nascimento 
  The Katipunan 
  195. 
  By Dion Fernandez 
  The Loçolico 
  198. 
  By Andrew Wyatt 
  Places 
  Caracas 
  203. 
  By Daniel Bandera 
  Minnesota 
  205. 
  By Mike S.W. 
  Bogotá 
  207. 
  By Daniel Bandera 
  Manila 
  209. 
  By Dion Fernandez 
  Rapa Nui 
  211. 
  By Hugo Viegas Nascimento 
  Things 
  H.M.S. Erebus 
  216. 
  By Luiz Eduardo Neves Peret 
  Wang-Chi 
  220. 
  By Luiz Eduardo Neves Peret 
  Player Character Rules 
  Mortician 
  225. 
  By Eldred Black 
  Conclusion 
  227. 
  The Lights (Credits) 
  228. 
  Old age & youth, manhood & infancy, 
  Mixed in one mighty torrent did appear, 
  Some flying from the thing they feared & some 
  Seeking the object of another’s fear, 
  And others as with steps towards the tomb 
  Pored on the trodden worms that crawled beneath, 
  And others mournfully within the gloom 
  Of their own shadow walked, and called it death  . . . 
  And some fled from it as it were a ghost, 
  Half fainting in the affliction of vain breath. 
  —Percy Bysshe Shelley 
  “The Triumph of Life” (1824) 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: PREFACE 
  4 
  “And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor; 
  And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor 
  Shall be lifted—nevermore!” 
  —E. A. Poe, “The Raven” 
  A shadow is a stab of darkness in the heart of the light. It is the eternal 
  affirmation of night’s dominance over the day. The brighter the radiance 
  becomes, the murkier the shadow. And when that light fades, the shadows 
  come out to take over, their sharp edges blurring into mist. 
  Shadows can be your friends. A renegade soldier, pursued by Drakov’s 
  Talons, takes refuge in a stand of trees. A small child hides in a closet, as 
  alcohol turns his father into a monster. The cool shade of a boulder greets a 
  lost traveler in the desert, and a few precious drops of water cling to the dark 
  side of the stone. 
  Shadows can be your enemies. A frightened woman hurries home through 
  the twilight, her pursuer’s unseen footsteps echoing from the dark alley 
  where he parallels her path. A vampire billows from his hiding place, 
  awaiting the end of sunlight. A party of pious priests walks though the 
  Svalich woods, oblivious to the wolves which lie in wait beneath the trees 
  ahead of them. 
  In the end, however, shadows simply are. Whether refuge or ambush, 
  shadows hide the dark from the light. You have reached into the shadows 
  and brought forth wisdom and learning. You have reached into the shadows 
  and brought forth terror and evil. And, as day fades, and the fire burns 
  down to embers, the shadows are reaching for you as well. 
  Welcome to the night, weary traveler. 
  Andrew Hackard 
  Kargatane 
  October 31, 2000 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: INTRODUCTION 
  5 
  October 31st, 754. 
  NIDALA. 
  !"#$!"#$!"#$!"#$!"#$!"#$!"#$!"#$ 
  hadows flickered against the roughhewn 
  stones of the chamber, dancing in time to the 
  sputtering torches on the walls. Ponderous 
  arches supported the low ceiling, 
  motionlessly crushing the life from the room. The 
  prisoner waiting in this chamber might have felt those 
  walls pressing the very breath from his lungs, had he 
  any concern for breath. 
  No prisoner’s journey to this chamber had ever 
  been kind, and this prisoner’s journey had been less 
  kind than most. The prisoner’s teeth were cracked, his 
  ribs broken. One cheekbone was smashed, causing the 
  eye above to bulge strangely. But none of this 
  concerned the prisoner. He was as content as he had 
  ever been. He had traveled far to reach this chamber. 
  He was the first of his kind to complete the journey. 
  The prisoner knelt in the center of the chamber, 
  anchored to the floor by the collar of thick chains 
  hanging from his neck, and by the heavy manacles 
  binding his hands and feet. 
  Beyond the curtain of chains another ring 
  surrounded the prisoner—a ring of men and women 
  with broad shoulders and leathery hands. Each guard 
  held a heavy battleaxe and wore well-tended scale mail. 
  Ornate helmets hid the guards’ faces, but the torchlight 
  danced on the scowling eyes peering out from their 
  dark visors. 
  The guards stood silent, glaring down at the 
  prisoner. Beyond the ring of guards stood instruments 
  of pain. Beyond these machines, with their blades and 
  straps, a series of small doors lined three walls of the 
  room. The doors were almost lost in the shadows, but a 
  quiet whimpering would occasionally trickle from one 
  or another. 
  The fourth wall held only a single, ironclad door. 
  Suddenly the latch raised and the door swung open on 
  well-oiled hinges, revealing three figures in the dim 
  hallway beyond. The ring of guards turned as one to 
  bow respectfully to the newcomers. The prisoner started 
  to rise to his feet as the newcomers entered, but a guard 
  quickly rammed the handle of his axe into the 
  prisoner’s back, dropping him back down to the floor. 
  A pair of women stepped inside first. Both wore 
  identical sparkling golden gowns, marking them as 
  sisters in service to the church of Belenus. As one, the 
  priestesses nodded back to the guards, then quickly 
  stepped to either side of the door to admit the third in 
  their party. 
  This third member strode into the room, a knight 
  clad in brightly polished full plate. Reflected torches 
  glittered on the armor like stars, but their light could not 
  match the glory of the golden sunburst emblazoned on 
  the knight’s breastplate. 
  Unlike the guards, the knight wore no helm. Her 
  raven hair framed a face that was surely beautiful and 
  vital, but worn by a life of endless struggle. Her eyes 
  still reflected the countless horrors they had faced. 
  The knight gripped the hilt of the bastard sword at 
  her hip, while her free hand swept across the scene. 
  Without hesitation, the ring of guards parted before her, 
  and the knight stepped closer to the prisoner. She glared 
  down at him, making no attempt to hide her disgust. 
  The prisoner peered up at the knight with his black, 
  lifeless eyes and grinned, his battered and lipless jaws 
  full of broken fangs. A long, pointed tongue slipped 
  from the prisoner’s maw and idly licked the leathery 
  gray flesh stretched tightly across his smashed cheek. 
  “I am told,” began the knight, “that you have 
  requested an audience with me.” Her voice filled the 
  room, and even the prisoner could not help but flinch 
  from its quiet strength. 
  “You are the knight?” hissed the ghoulish prisoner. 
  “You are the paladin?” 
  The knight nodded. 
  “You are Elena Faith-hold, yess? You are the lasst 
  knight of the Ssircle?” 
  “I am,” replied the knight, her voice cold and cruel. 
  She leaned down towards the ghoul’s face. “And in my 
  long life I have slaughtered more of your foul kind than 
  I could count. It is a small miracle for you that you have 
  avoided destruction long enough to gain my ear. If any 
  shred of your soul remains, you would do well to offer 
  praise to Belenus for your good fortune.” 
  The ghoul hissed. “Belenuss wass my god in life. 
  In death I praisse a new creator.” 
  Lady Elena straightened, her mouth twisted into a 
  snarl. “Do not waste what little time remains to you,” 
  she growled. “Say your peace, before I lose my 
  patience.” The hand on the sword squeezed tightly 
  enough to make the leather bands on the hilt creak. 
  S 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: INTRODUCTION 
  6 
  The ghoul nodded, attempting to look solemn. “I 
  bring you word of your foess, Lady Elena. Of the 
  banditss from the wesstern woodss.” 
  “The Red Wolf,” murmured a priestess, and the 
  guards responded with muttered curses. Never taking 
  her eyes from the ghoul, Elena threw up her free 
  hand—and silence instantly reclaimed the chamber. 
  The chained ghoul leered at the guards. “Yess, the 
  Red Wolf. That is what your people call him, is it not? 
  The one who attackss your woodssmen?” The ghoul 
  turned back to Elena. “The one who hass ssworn your 
  death.” 
  The merest hint of a smirk pinched Elena’s cheek. 
  “Very well, creature,” she answered. “What do you 
  know of these brigands?” 
  “These is a reasson your woodssmen cannot catch 
  them. There is a reasson you cannot starve them out. 
  There is a reasson they continue to thrive . . . continue 
  to sseduce your people with their evil taint . . .” 
  Elena crossed her arms. “I’m listening.” 
  “The banditss are ssupported by otherss you have 
  never sseen . . . otherss who came here sseven yearss 
  ago, when the Phantasmal Forest at lasst reached your 
  realm.” The ghoul grinned wickedly. “A group of 
  warriorss that arrived . . . with uss.” 
  The ghoul fell into silence, expecting a reply. 
  When none came, it continued. 
  “These warriorss call themselvess Knightss of the 
  Shadowss. They call their ssociety . . . the Ssircle.” 
  Elena’s gauntleted hand lashed out faster than a 
  whip, striking the ghoul across the face. A broken fang 
  skipped across the flagstones. 
  “You lie,” Elena snapped. “Do you think I have 
  heard nothing of the Great Kingdom in the years of my 
  absence? The Circle was destroyed long ago. I am the 
  last. Its burdens have fallen upon I alone.” 
  The ghoul glared up at the knight, spitting out 
  another tooth before continuing. 
  “This is a new Ssircle, my lady, one that sseeks to 
  replace the firsst. A corruption of the firsst. These 
  knightss bear a ssymbol, like yourss,” hissed the ghoul, 
  nodding to the sunburst on Elena’s breastplate. “A 
  shining ssun. But their ssun is devoured by darkness. 
  They are driven by hatred, given sstrength by injustice.” 
  The ghoul grinned again. “They sseek one thing 
  above all elsse, my lady. Your desstruction.” 
  Elena turned slightly, glancing at her prisoner 
  askance. “What do you know of this . . . false Circle?” 
  “They are sscattered to the winds, my lady. They 
  sspend many monthss in landss far beyond the 
  Phantasmal Forest—far beyond your reach. But one day 
  out of the year—thiss day—they congregate here, in the 
  Shadowlands, before journeying into the Forest to offer 
  ssuccor to their masster.” 
  Elena leaned closer once again, sporting a sarcastic 
  grin. “And just who is the master of this false Circle?” 
  The ghoul broke into a squealing titter. “It is a 
  name from your passt, my lady, a name you will know. 
  It is the heart of the Phantasmal Forest. It is the heart of 
  evil in thiss realm.” 
  Elena clenched her jaw. “Give me the name.” 
  “It is a demon—worsse than a demon. It hass 
  ssworn to desstroy Lady Kateri Shadowborn, and all 
  that she ever held dear.” 
  Elena’s eyes grew wide. The ghoul continued, its 
  voice dripping with glee. “And you know there was 
  nothing Lady Kateri held more dear than . . . you.” 
  Elena took a step back. “The evil at the heart of 
  those woods—those woods that have surrounded this 
  land like an ooze engulfing its prey—that is the same 
  evil that spurred the Heretical Wars? That murdered 
  Lady Kateri in her home? That forced my hand, forced 
  me to wage the bloody War of Evil?” 
  “Yess,” purred the ghoul. “One and the ssame. It is 
  the evil you firsst knew as Muhdar ab Ssang, Grand 
  Caliph of the Ssouthern Empire. The eternal evil now 
  known as the Ebonbane. It waitss . . . in the heart of its 
  Forest . . . for you.” 
  Elena spun away from the ghoul, her eyes reading 
  the reactions of the helmed guards and the priestesses in 
  gold. “Ebonbane,” she whispered to herself, her eyes 
  wet. “Can it be? One hundred and forty years trapped in 
  this limbo—is this at last an understanding of my fate? 
  Two lifetimes of waiting; has my foe—my quest—at 
  last been delivered to me?” 
  “I can lead your woodssmen to the Knightss of the 
  Shadowss, my lady, to their hiding place in the Forest, 
  where you may sslaughter them at your whim. But we 
  must go quickly, my lady, for after thiss day they will 
  sscatter for another year. Without the Ssircle, the 
  bandits of the wesstern woodss will wither and trouble 
  you no more.” 
  A frown darkened Elena’s face. “But why, fiend,” 
  she asked the ghoul, without turning to face him. “Why 
  would you tell me this? You need not bother to deny 
  that you serve the Ebonbane as well. Why would you 
  betray another servant of your master?” 
  The ghoul grimaced. “Ssuch is our nature. What 
  does it matter if the betrayed is friend or foe? Sso long 
  as there is ssuffering, we are content.” 
  Elena frowned. “But that is not the reason. This is a 
  poor trap you have laid, creature. I ask again—why 
  would an abomination that seeks my destruction also 
  seek to aid me?” 
  The ghoul slowly rose to its feet, its collar of 
  chains jingling. It smiled. “Because we love you, 
  Elena,” it hissed, with a voice full of hate. “Because 
  you are one of uss. You delight the Ebonbane as much 
  as we. The Ebonbane sslew our ssoulss and filled our 
  shellss with its evil. But the evil sseething in your heart 
  is yourss alone. Your ssoul was sslain by your own 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: INTRODUCTION 
  7 
  hand. If not for that, you would be in the Forest, with 
  the resst of uss.” 
  Elena drew her sword, its gleaming blade ringing. 
  She spun to address the ghoul. “You are filled with filth 
  and lies,” she hissed, “just like all your unnatural kind. 
  You are a blight. Your mere presence soils me. I feel I 
  must be . . . cleansed.” 
  The ghoul frowned just before Elena’s sword 
  lashed out. Its head struck the floor and rolled away just 
  before its body crumpled, twitching. Elena held out her 
  sword, and a guard stepped forward with a cloth to 
  wipe the black ichor from its blade. 
  Elena tapped another guard’s shoulder and pointed 
  to what remained of the creature. “Burn it,” she 
  ordered, before moving toward the door. One of the 
  priestesses hesitantly stepped into Elena’s path. 
  “Lady Elena,” whispered the priestess, “I do not 
  wish to question your wisdom, but we already know 
  that the Red Wolf’s brigands are supported by an 
  outside force. Surely, do we not wish a confrontation?” 
  Elena stepped back, a look of suspicion on her 
  face. She stared long and hard at the priestess, and the 
  woman shuddered. Finally, Elena seemed to be 
  satisfied, and stepped closer. 
  “Have you so little faith in me, sister?” Elena 
  asked, amusement in her voice. “The Ebonbane 
  sacrificed this messenger in vain. I already have eyes in 
  the brigand’s camp.” Elena’s tone grew deadly serious. 
  “I have had a faithful servant hidden among our foes for 
  some time now. If this creature’s claims were true, then 
  after tonight, we will know exactly how this false Circle 
  serves the Ebonbane.” 
  Elena placed a firm hand on the priestess’s 
  shoulder. “And once we know exactly what we face, we 
  can destroy it utterly—on our terms.” 
  ! ! ! 
  Davran’s eyes had seen scarcely more than twenty 
  years, but already they struggled to contain anguish far 
  beyond their due. He clutched a heavy axe to his chest, 
  just as he had clutched a security blanket on stormy 
  nights not so many years before. Over his patched 
  peasant’s garb, he wore simple and somewhat ill fitting 
  armor of stiffened leather. Davran had received both 
  arms and armor from the Red Wolf himself, that 
  mysterious leader of the brigands from the western 
  woods. Davran had been taught to fear and despise the 
  brigands who dared to prey upon Nidala’s guardians, 
  but now, through twists of fate he dared not think upon 
  too often, he found himself counted among their 
  number. Now, Davran knew he even needed these 
  brigands to achieve his own ambitions. 
  Davran watched the figures buzzing around him, 
  drinking in their details. He had come here, with these 
  people, these bandits; come to this place of doom. 
  Davran took a step backward and leaned against one of 
  the massive dolmens that now surrounded him. Pressing 
  his back against the cyclopean stone, he gazed skyward 
  at the pale and distant sun. Davran felt the ancient ring 
  of stones tightening around him, cutting him off from 
  the world he knew. His lungs screamed for fresh air. 
  Hefting his axe over one shoulder, Davran turned 
  and stormed out of the ring of stones, intent on leaving. 
  He went three paces before he froze in his tracks, 
  staring out into the quagmire beyond. 
  It was the Phantasmal Forest. Its sea of darkness 
  surrounded this ring of stones for miles in every 
  direction. It had been madness to come here. The Forest 
  had always been spoken of in legends, but only some 
  seven years had passed since the Forest proved itself to 
  be real. It had first appeared at the far western border of 
  the realm, so it was said, but within the year had spread 
  outward and around the land, foot by creeping foot 
  taking the place of the Mists that had once marked 
  Nidala’s borders. 
  It was said that the marshy ground of the 
  Phantasmal Forest was unstable, ever shifting. It hid 
  quicksand and other perils, and consumed trails before 
  they could grow a day old. It was said that the trees of 
  the Forest wound their branches together so tightly that 
  no sunlight could penetrate their canopy; that just a 
  hundred feet into the Forest—with the sole exception of 
  the sad little island of light within this circle of stones—
  it was always black as midnight, even on the brightest 
  days. It was said that horrors roamed the Phantasmal 
  Forest: twisted monsters, tormented spirits, and ghouls 
  who stole into Nidala under cover of night to desecrate 
  graves and steal away the unwary. It was said that the 
  Phantasmal Forest was evil, in the purest of terms. 
  Davran now knew all of these tales to be true. He 
  had now seen its horrors with his own eyes. And now 
  he had seen something else, something not spoken of in 
  the legends. It had barely been a month since Davran 
  had joined the brigands. He barely knew his comrades’ 
  names, much less their secrets. But one secret had 
  revealed itself all too plainly over the past two days. 
  They were warriors, men and women, clad in steel and 
  bearing blades to the last. All of them wore the same 
  black-and-yellow cape as that worn by the Red Wolf 
  himself. They also all shared the same strange emblem 
  he wore: an eclipsed sunburst. To Davran’s eyes, it was 
  the symbol of Belenus, devoured by the night. 
  These shadowy knights had emerged from the 
  Phantasmal Forest without warning, seeking out the 
  Red Wolf’s camp in the western woods. There they had 
  been greeted with open arms, and the Red Wolf had 
  ordered his band to accompany the knights back into 
  the Forest, for reasons inconceivable to Davran. Davran 
  still struggled to believe that he had agreed to follow. 
  During the grueling trek that followed through the murk 
  and mire of the Phantasmal Forest, Davran had 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: INTRODUCTION 
  8 
  learned—an overheard snippet of conversation here, a 
  carefully worded question there—that these knights 
  with the haunted faces returned to the Shadowlands 
  every year. Not only were they the Red Wolf’s allies, 
  he was actually a soldier in their ranks. Davran had not 
  yet learned what these knights sought to accomplish 
  each year in these accursed woods, but he had not dared 
  to press his luck in the search for answers. 
  These Knights of the Shadows—more than a score 
  of them—surrounded him now, mingling with the Red 
  Wolf’s more experienced bandits, tending to the camp 
  within the circle of stones, standing watch over the 
  darkness of the Forest without. 
  Slowly, Davran realized that while adrift in his 
  thoughts, his gaze had idly settled upon a pair of the 
  mysterious knights standing not far away. One warrior 
  had a narrow face and graying temples; his companion 
  was broader, and his sunken eyes glittered from the 
  darkness of his bearded face.  
  Suddenly the graying knight turned his head and 
  met Davran’s gaze with a scrutinizing stare. Startled by 
  the attention, Davran scuttled back into the circle of 
  stones, returning to his place pressed against the 
  monolith. Davran tried to convince himself that he 
  wasn’t hiding. 
  “Who was that?” asked a voice, clipped and 
  foreign, which just barely hovered above the din of the 
  campsite. Davran realized that he could still hear the 
  two knights from his position; they seemed to be 
  making no attempt to keep their conversation hushed. 
  “One of the Wolf’s band,” answered the first 
  voice’s companion, a baritone. 
  There was a pause, then the clipped voice returned. 
  “I gathered that much. Have you seen him before?” 
  “No. He’s new. ‘Davran’ is the name, I think. 
  Apparently they found him hanging in a makeshift 
  gibbet by a burnt-out farmstead about a month ago.” 
  Davran squeezed his eyes shut as the memory was 
  summoned. 
  “Anyone else found there?” 
  “A family, apparently. Or rather, they found the 
  parts of a family that wouldn’t burn.” 
  The first voice returned again after another pause. 
  “Had the boy been tortured?” 
  Another pause. Davran imagined the baritone 
  knight shrugging. “Barely a mark on him, I hear. They 
  just left him for the birds. Or the ghouls.” 
  Another pause. Davran could not imagine a gesture 
  to accompany this silence, but the first voice returned 
  soon enough. “Elena Faith-hold may work in 
  mysterious ways, but I strongly doubt she would 
  knowingly help bolster the Ahltrian’s ranks.” 
  Another pause, another imagined shrug. 
  “So,” continued the clipped voice, “do you trust 
  him?” 
  “The Davran boy? The Wolf seems to trust him. 
  That’s good enough for me. Anyway, we have a few 
  new faces in our own ranks this year, don’t we?” 
  “We always do. And some of these faces we’ll 
  never see again.” 
  “Aye,” answered the baritone, his tone touching 
  sorrow. “But that’s the nature of the beast, isn’t it? And 
  it’s why we need to have faith in the faces we do see.” 
  Another pause. Then: “Aye.” Davran though the 
  clipped voice sounded less than convinced. 
  “Hey.” A third voice emerged from the din of the 
  camp. This voice was female, sultry, and markedly 
  louder and clearer than that of either of the two knights. 
  “Hey. You.” The voice now carried a hint of 
  irritation, and this time was accompanied by the 
  sensation of something dully jabbing Davran’s chest 
  twice. In a flash of panic, Davran realized that the 
  owner of this new voice was speaking directly to him. 
  His eyes snapped open. 
  At first Davran couldn’t make sense of what he 
  saw. The creature standing before him was his height, 
  but even clad in half plate, it was gaunt, angular, and 
  sticklike. Its head and hands were pitch black—mere 
  silhouettes against the campfires, even in the pale 
  sunlight. Davran’s mind raced through possibilities; 
  was it a ghoul? A wraith? Suddenly realizing that the 
  creature was standing close enough to bite, Davran 
  reflexively raised his axe to strike. The shadowy 
  creature darted back in alarm, reaching for the sword at 
  its hip. The rest was a blur. 
  Davran heard a cry of alarm. Another strange 
  knight suddenly leapt forward from the gloom, sword 
  drawn. In a flash, this knight used the blade of his 
  sword to pin Davran’s axe against the dolmen. Another 
  knight—this one a full two heads shorter than anyone 
  else in camp—now hurled itself into Davran, smashing 
  him into the massive stone. 
  Within moments of raising his weapon, both 
  Davran and his axe were held fast, pinned against the 
  circle of stones. The taller of the two new knights, a 
  man Davran’s age with a dirty blonde moustache, 
  glared at him with hateful eyes. The shorter knight kept 
  his face down; from Davran’s constrained point of view 
  he remained a mass of flexing steel plates. The first 
  shadow knight, the ebon stick figure, still stood a few 
  steps back in a guarded stance, its sword drawn. 
  “Who are you?” hissed the blond knight. 
  “Use your head,” snapped the ebon figure to the 
  knight. The sultry female voice Davran had heard was 
  hers. “He’s obviously with the Wolf.” 
  The blond knight sneered at the ebon woman, then 
  turned back to Davran. “I saw you attacking her—I 
  ought to gut you for that.” 
  The squat knight suddenly pushed back, freeing 
  Davran’s body. Davran could now see the stout 
  warrior’s hirsute face. A long, pink scar wound down 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: INTRODUCTION 
  9 
  the man’s cheek, passing beneath an eyepatch. With no 
  small wonderment, Davran realized he was looking at a 
  supernatural creature. 
  “You’ll do no such thing,” grumbled the dwarf. 
  “I’ve seen too many people die. I’ll be damned if I’ll 
  see anyone die tonight.” 
  The blond knight scowled at the dwarf, then turned 
  back to Davran, still keeping the axe pinned. “What do 
  you think you’re doing?” 
  Davran cautiously pointed at the ebon woman with 
  his free hand. “What is that thing?” he asked 
  accusingly. 
  Davran had not expected the response. The blond 
  knight dropped his sword, stepping back so he could 
  keep both Davran and the ebon woman in view. “You 
  know,” he growled, “I’ve wondered the same myself.” 
  The ebon woman stiffened. Taking a closer look, 
  Davran realized that every inch of the woman’s 
  strangely thin frame was covered by heavy black cloth: 
  gloves on her hands, a tight cowl over her head, a black 
  veil across her face. Only her fiery, azure eyes 
  remained visible. 
  The blond knight took a step towards her. He 
  thumbed towards a cooking fire. “Who are you? Why 
  don’t you come with us, closer to the light? Let us get a 
  better look at you.” 
  The woman’s head dropped, and she began to 
  circle around the blond knight, obviously keeping him 
  at a distance. “My name is Kosia,” growled the woman. 
  “And I must decline your offer. The shadows suit me 
  well enough.” 
  The blond knight narrowed his eyes. “I think I have 
  to insist, Kosia. You never know what might try to 
  sneak into our camp.” 
  The dwarf was suddenly between the two, and he 
  thrust out an arm to block the blond man. “Do you 
  simply not care who you kill, lad? Ever stood by and 
  had to watch as all your friends died around you? I 
  have, and I’ll be damned if I ever stand by again. She’s 
  wearing the eclipsed sun, so she’s one of us. If you 
  want to cut her, you’ll have to carve your way through 
  me first. You understand?” 
  The heat drained from the blond knight’s face. 
  “Better than you might think, dwarf.” 
  “Übrig,” corrected the dwarf. 
  The baritone voice suddenly joined the scene. 
  “What’s going on here?” Davran spun to see the 
  newcomer—as did the three shadow knights 
  surrounding him. The two knights who had been 
  discussing Davran were now striding into the circle of 
  stones. The leading knight glared at all assembled with 
  his dark, sunken eyes. “Are we having some sort of 
  trouble here?” he asked, in his baritone voice. Davran 
  connected his face to the voice. 
  “No, there’s no trouble here,” grumbled the blond 
  knight. 
  “Then what is going on?” asked the narrow-faced 
  knight in his clipped accent. 
  The ebon figure—Kosia—pointed at Davran. “I 
  was going to ask him a question, and he lunged at me.” 
  All eyes turned to Davran, and he felt his cheeks 
  turn hot. “I thought she was . . .” he began, before 
  stumbling to a halt. “She looked . . .” Five pairs of eyes 
  continued to glare at him. Davran dropped his head. 
  “She surprised me. I thought she was a ghoul.” He 
  added a hasty, “I’m sorry,” of dubious sincerity. 
  “It’s a mistake I might have made myself,” 
  growled the blond knight. Davran looked up again to 
  see him jutting his chin at Kosia. “What exactly are you 
  hiding under that cowl?” 
  “Nothing that need ever concern you,” spat Kosia 
  in reply. 
  “Enough!” barked the baritone knight. “You’re all 
  new, aren’t you? I haven’t seen any of you at this camp 
  before.” Kosia, Übrig the dwarf, and the blond knight 
  all nodded reluctantly. This surprised Davran, who 
  quickly admitted that he was new as well. 
  “Well, that’s the problem, isn’t it?” The baritone 
  knight smiled. “You’re all strangers to each other. 
  Introduce yourselves. I am Barloc, and I call Valachan 
  my home. My friend here is Rohmer”—Rohmer nodded 
  in greeting—”from Borca. Now, who are all of you?” 
  Kosia and Übrig quickly supplied their names; 
  Kosia came from a land called Tepest; the dwarf from 
  somewhere known as Necropolis. The blond knight 
  identified himself as Julian, and called his homeland 
  Dementlieu. None of these places were even remotely 
  familiar to Davran. All eyes turned to him. 
  “My name is Davran. The Red Wolf took me in 
  when . . . when Lady Elena’s woodsmen burned my 
  family.” Davran found it difficult to meet the others’ 
  gazes. 
  Kosia quickly looked away. The others nodded. It 
  was not a gesture of sympathy, but of recognition. 
  Barloc smiled once again. “Now that you’ve been 
  introduced, you are no longer strangers. All of you are 
  now friends and allies. The gods know that a true friend 
  is a treasure in this life, and should be treated as one.” 
  Rohmer turned his head to Kosia, and gestured to 
  Davran. “What were you going to ask him?” 
  Kosia eyed Davran suspiciously for a moment 
  before answering. He could see her eyes sparkling like 
  jewels. “I could tell he was one of the Wolf’s men, so I 
  was going to ask him why we’re sitting in this camp in 
  the middle of this hellish swamp. I was told that the 
  annual conclave was of vital importance, but now we 
  aren’t doing anything.” She looked at Davran again. 
  Her face remained hidden, but her voice softened. 
  “Now I see he doesn’t know any more than I do.” 
  Barloc’s face grew stern. “The conclave is of vital 
  importance. Actions of vital importance are, in fact, 
  being taken as we speak.” 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: INTRODUCTION 
  10 
  “For the moment our role is merely to sit, wait, and 
  protect this camp,” continued Rohmer. “The time to act 
  will come soon enough.” 
  “What are we waiting for?” asked Übrig. 
  Barloc took up the baton. “I assume you were all 
  educated in the history of our order?” Davran watched 
  the others nod. “While we wait here, Gondegal is 
  collecting magical . . .” Barloc paused as he glanced at 
  Davran. “. . . offerings. That is his sworn duty as the 
  leader of the Circle. Once he returns, it falls to the rest 
  of us to take those offerings into Shadowborn Manor, at 
  the heart of the Phantasmal Forest, and there give 
  succor to the heart to our order. If we fail in our 
  responsibilities, all that we stand for is doomed.” 
  “So,” grinned Julian, “our fearless leader gathers 
  some trinkets, and then we grunts have to cart them into 
  the maw of the Abyss? I see how this works.” 
  Rohmer stepped forward. “Julian, do you have any 
  idea where Gondegal is collecting these . . . trinkets?” 
  Julian’s smirk suddenly vanished. He had the look 
  of a man realizing he had just stepped in beartrap. 
  Rohmer continued, his voice firm but calm. 
  “Gondegal has gone to Tergeron Manor, there to meet 
  with Morgoroth the Black.” Davran’s face went pale as 
  he recognized these legendary names. Rohmer noted 
  this and directed the rest of his comments to him. 
  “Before our Circle, there was another. A band of 
  holy knights who served Belenus with piety and 
  wielded the will of their god as their sword. They were 
  all slain, in one night. In one battle. By one man.” 
  Rohmer turned back to Julian. “Our leader, 
  Gondegal, has gone alone to bargain with a mage who 
  could destroy him with a word, and who possesses the 
  inclination to do so. As leader of the Circle, Gondegal 
  must bargain with this monstrous wizard for the four 
  offerings we require. No one else possesses the magic 
  we need. It is a task requiring subtlety and grace. 
   “These are traits which some of us,” Rohmer said, 
  frowning at Julian, “have not yet acquired. Once 
  Gondegal succeeds, our task is relatively simple.” 
  “Entering Shadowborn Manor simply requires 
  courage and fortitude,” smiled Barloc. “Traits I think 
  everyone here has demonstrated amply through their 
  mere presence in the Phantasmal Forest.” He glanced 
  briefly at the neophyte knights. “No one here has 
  anything to prove, no matter how you might feel.” 
  A commotion sprang to life at the far side of the 
  circle of standing stones. Davran turned to see as a 
  massive warrior, armored and bearing the symbols of a 
  Knight of the Shadows, trudged into the camp. His 
  armor was splattered with muck and slime, but his 
  bearing was proud, and his face held a look of triumph. 
  He held something that Davran first thought to be some 
  sort of odd scourge. He soon realized that the knight 
  was actually carrying a cluster of four small boxes, each 
  a few inches to a side and crafted from brass and 
  rosewood. Each was tied to a long leather strap, and it 
  was these straps that the knight held in his hand. 
  As the others rushed over to greet the knight’s 
  arrival, Davran realized that he must have been looking 
  at Gondegal, the leader of the Circle. That’s one task 
  down, then, he thought. Davran turned slightly and 
  realized that Rohmer was still standing next to him, a 
  serene look on his face. 
  Rohmer noted him. “Yes, the offerings are in those 
  boxes,” he mused. 
  Davran frowned. “What do you do with them? 
  What’s waiting for you in Shadowborn Manor? That 
  Julian seemed . . . afraid, if you ask me.” 
  Rohmer looked at Davran again, this time with a 
  note of amusement in his eyes. “Shadowborn Manor is 
  a prison. A prison made by . . .” He shrugged as his 
  voiced trailed off. “. . . gods, perhaps. Or passion as 
  powerful as the gods.” 
  Davran’s frown deepened. “A prison? For what?” 
  Rohmer grinned slightly. “For an entity so 
  monstrous that demons fear its coming. Our offerings 
  keep it contained. But the beast continually lashes out, 
  trying to corrode the chains that bind it. That is why we 
  need to replenish our offerings each year. Without our 
  tending, and within a year—perhaps two at most—the 
  beast would be freed to rampage across the 
  Shadowlands, and from there, anywhere it pleased.” 
  “What is this beast?” 
  “Ebonbane. It cannot be described beyond that.” 
  Davran stared at the clustered knights greeting their 
  returning lord. “I want to see it. I want to face it.” 
  Rohmer looked at the lad, raising an eyebrow. 
  “Davran? What do you live for?” 
  Davran was startled. “What do you mean?” 
  “I know your family was killed. All of here share a 
  history of death and tragedy. What gives you the 
  strength to go on? To wake up in the mornings?” 
  Davran stared at the ground. “I don’t know.” 
  Rohmer’s silence pressed upon him. Sensing this 
  answer would not suffice, Davran added, “Nothing, I 
  suppose.” 
  “That’s not true,” Rohmer replied, quietly. Davran 
  looked back up at him. “That’s not what I see in you. 
  That dwarf, Übrig. I can see it in him. Right now he’s a 
  walking corpse. He wishes he’d died with those lost 
  friends of his. It’s in his eyes. I’d be very surprised if 
  we ever see him again after tonight. He’ll probably 
  throw his life away on some hopeless cause before the 
  year is out. And he’ll thank whatever beast it is that 
  slays him. Look deeper within yourself, Davran. Tell 
  me what gives your heart the will to beat.” 
  Davran’s face slowly hardened as he searched for 
  an answer. At length he looked up and turned to face 
  Rohmer fully. His voice was low and gravelly. 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: INTRODUCTION 
  11 
  “I want to kill Elena Stranglehold. I want to kill her 
  with my bare hands. And before she dies, I want to 
  make her suffer like she’s made so many others suffer.” 
  “Ah,” mused Rohmer, smiling. “Your life’s spark 
  is Hatred. Well. At least your hate is more . . . focused 
  than Julian’s. I doubt we’ll ever see him again either.” 
  Davran scowled. “Is there a point here, old man?” 
  Rohmer smiled back at him, sadly. “It’s a lesson 
  we all need to learn. If we don’t learn it, we die.” 
  “Learn what?” 
  “That the hate you feel is not enough. We’ve all 
  been where you are now, boy. Right now the hate is a 
  fire in your belly, driving you forward. It gives you 
  resolve. It gives you strength. But if you allow that hate 
  to keep burning, it will consume you. The day will 
  come, and soon, when there will be nothing left of you 
  but the hate.” Rohmer looked deep into Davran’s eyes. 
  “On that day, you will be just like Elena Faith-hold.” 
  Davran’s jaw dropped slightly, and he stepped 
  back. Rohmer maintained his gaze. 
  “You need something more than vengeance,” 
  continued Rohmer. “Something greater than hate. If 
  you can find that, you will find the calm you need.” 
  Davran cocked his head. “What have you found?” 
  “A woman’s love was ripped from me once,” 
  Rohmer replied, a wince in his voice. “That is what set 
  me on my path. Finding that love again is what gave me 
  the will to go on.” He smiled. “Love keeps us human.” 
  Davran blinked at him, dumbfounded. 
  ! ! ! 
  The knights and bandits trudged through the hip-
  deep mire of the Phantasmal Forest. Once Gondegal 
  had returned, camp was broken, and the collected band 
  moved on, deeper into the formless swamps. That had 
  been hours ago. 
  Davran could see Gondegal heading the group, 
  holding out a lantern before him. Davran had doubted 
  the usefulness of the lantern at first; in the beginning it 
  had been so dim he could barely even see it in the 
  murk. But with each passing hour, the lantern’s light 
  had grown steadily. Now it blazed with scarlet light, 
  and Davran realized it too must be some kind of 
  magical trinket, like the boxes Gondegal still had 
  wrapped around his wrist. Somehow, the lantern was 
  leading the group to the Ebonbane. Davran had heard 
  some of the knights, and even some of the other 
  brigands he knew, nervously discussing how the path to 
  Shadowborn Manor seemed different each year; how 
  the Phantasmal Forest truly had no shape. How the 
  scattered islands of solid land, like the Shadowborn 
  Manor, and Tergeron, and even Nidala, just floated 
  about like bubbles in an oily pool. 
  Davran kept his eyes focused on the gloom 
  pressing in on the party. Several packs of ghouls had 
  attacked the group, but quick action and overwhelming 
  numbers had prevented casualties so far. Yet the raids 
  were growing in frequency; Davran knew he wasn’t the 
  only one hoping the lantern would deliver them to 
  wherever they were going, soon. 
  Davran glanced at the other faces he knew. Übrig 
  and Julian were both off at the edges of the group. 
  Davran realized that Rohmer was right. Both men were 
  hoping for another ghoul raid. Both wanted to be on the 
  front lines in an attack. Davran craned his neck, and 
  spotted Rohmer and Barloc near the back. Both men 
  were keeping their eyes focused on the surrounding 
  wilds, but Davran could see them still mouthing 
  comments to each other. Barloc chuckled. 
  Finally Davran’s gaze fell back upon Kosia, the 
  scarecrow with the azure eyes. He found himself 
  wanting ever more to see what lurked behind that veil, 
  though he no longer quite understood why. Picking up 
  his pace a bit, Davran sidled up to her. 
  Kosia faceless head snapped in his direction. Her 
  glittering eyes observed him coolly. “What do you 
  want? Come for another swing at my neck?” 
  Davran’s cheeks burned, and he looked away. He 
  started to speak, but choked on a dry throat. Finding his 
  voice, he turned back to Kosia, but kept his gaze low. 
  “I’m . . . sorry,” he mumbled. “I really am. I was 
  daydreaming, and you . . . you frightened me.” 
  Kosia laughed bitterly, and threw Davran a glance. 
  “I frighten a lot of people,” she murmured. Her eyes 
  were guarded. “Don’t worry about it. Forget it.” 
  “I don’t . . . That’s not what I want to . . .” Davran 
  found himself hopelessly fishing for something to say. 
  Rohmer’s words resonated. “Kosia?” 
  She sighed. “What.” 
  “What do you live for?” 
  Kosia’s head snapped back to face him, her eyes 
  wild. But the jewels softened, and Kosia turned away 
  again. “I almost died once. The man who . . . saved me, 
  was a Knight of the Shadows. He helped me . . . heal, 
  and brought me into the fold.” Kosia’s voice darkened. 
  “And then he was killed. For saving me.” 
  Kosia raised her head high. “I live because to do 
  otherwise would make his death a waste. I live to honor 
  him.” She turned back to Davran, her eyes hard. “Is that 
  the answer you wanted?” 
  Davran struggled for a reply. “That’s . . . good, I 
  think.” He offered her a grin. “It’s better than mine.” 
  Something shifted under Kosia’s veil, and she 
  laughed again, without bitterness. Davran trudged 
  alongside her, a lopsided grin still on his face. 
  ! ! ! 
  In the middle of nowhere stood a wall. In the 
  gloom and slime of the Phantasmal Forest, the wall was 
  white and pristine. Its stones fit together seamlessly. Its 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: INTRODUCTION 
  12 
  purity was obscene. The Knights of the Shadows had 
  reached their goal. With the ground growing more solid 
  in the presence of this slightly curving wall, the 
  entourage had started to set up a new camp. Davran 
  lingered near the faces he knew. 
  “So this is it?” asked Julian. “We finally get to see 
  the heart of darkness?” 
  Barloc turned to him, amused. “No, not you. Only 
  four will enter. And never those who are making this 
  journey for the first time.” 
  Davran frowned. “What about me?” 
  Rohmer shook his head. “You aren’t a Knight of 
  the Shadows. This isn’t your burden. You and the rest 
  of the Red Wolf’s men have already done far more than 
  your share.” 
  Julian kicked a stone into a fetid pool, and Übrig 
  shrugged helplessly. Davran knew how both men felt. 
  Barloc consoled them. “Only four go in, because the 
  task can be completed by one. And they might all die. 
  We can’t risk decimating our ranks. For every Knight 
  who does not return, some homeland loses their 
  steward. We only send in more if none come out, to 
  ensure that the task is complete.” 
  Davran cocked his head. “How do you pick who 
  goes in, then? Does Gondegal choose them?” 
  Rohmer shrugged. “Gondegal always selects one, a 
  Knight who’s entered the Manor before. The group will 
  need that guidance. The rest are chosen by random 
  draw from the experienced knights.” 
  Übrig trudged up to the others. “So what do the rest 
  of us do? Just sit on our hands, helpless?” 
  “You’ve already made enough of a sacrifice for 
  one year,” offered Barloc. “It’ll only get worse from 
  here. You aren’t being punished. Think of it as a gift. 
  The gift of another year of life. Assuming you survive 
  the night, that is.” 
  Übrig perked up. Barloc and Rohmer shared a 
  stifled grin. “The Ebonbane’s ghoulish Ahltrian 
  certainly won’t stop harassing us now that we’ve 
  reached their master’s lair. Those who remain here 
  must protect everyone in the camp—must make sure 
  there still is a camp when the four return.” 
  Übrig grinned. “I can do that.” 
  Davran examined the wall. “How do you get 
  inside? It’s so dark I can’t even see the top of this thing. 
  And these look—” he continued, reaching out to touch 
  the perfect stones. 
  Barloc leapt forward and grabbed his wrist. “Don’t 
  touch that!” he cried. Panting, he continued once he 
  had released the shocked Davran’s arm. “This thing is 
  not a wall, merely a border. Once you pass through it—
  or even brush against it—there’s no turning back until 
  our task is complete.” 
  “So what is behind here,” asked Kosia, as she 
  cautiously examined the wall herself. 
  “This is where the world ends,” intoned Rohmer. 
  “And what?” quizzed Julian sarcastically. “—
  Where the Abyss begins?” 
  Rohmer shook his head sternly. “Measure the 
  Abyss by how far the Ebonbane can reach, and we’ve 
  been slogging through it all day. No, this is much 
  worse. This where the world ends and Ebonbane 
  begins.” 
  A murmur passed through the assembled crowd; 
  the choosing ceremony had begun. Gondegal 
  announced that he had selected a pale and towering 
  woman, Emileeza, to lead the group; she had apparently 
  entered Shadowborn Manor twice before. From the 
  look on her face, Davran doubted she was overly 
  pleased about having to dare it once again. 
  The rest of the eligible knights then placed their 
  marks on slips of parchment, which were then collected 
  in a passed helmet. Both Barloc and Rohmer were 
  selected, each accepting the news with a mixture of 
  excitement and dread on their faces. A stout and heavily 
  tattooed knight from yet another foreign realm Davran 
  had never heard of filled the fourth post. 
  Gondegal handed one of the small rosewood boxes 
  to each knight, and the chosen party then traded all of 
  their swords, knives, and daggers for axes, maces, and 
  various sundry weapons. When Davran asked Kosia 
  why, she explained in grim tones that within 
  Shadowborn Manor, all swords became foes, all knives 
  assassins. This was, apparently, merely a sample of the 
  Ebonbane’s powers within its realm. 
  The four knights were given a grand salute by the 
  entire company, then turned to face the monstrously 
  perfect wall. Emileeza and the tattooed knight both 
  whispered quiet prayers to themselves. Barloc 
  murmured something to Rohmer, and they both turned 
  to their little group of neophytes, giving them a wink. 
  Then the foursome stepped forward into the wall, 
  passing through the stones as smoothly as they would 
  have slipped into a milk bath. 
  Davran saw Julian tensing. He could sense what 
  Julian felt: the need to follow; the need to see what lay 
  beyond that wall; the need to do something. He felt it 
  himself; he was fighting the same urge to simply rush 
  forward and plunge himself into that white hell. 
  A black hand came down on Julian’s shoulder. 
  Kosia turned him away from the wall. 
  “It’s not your time. You heard Barloc. You’ve been 
  spared. After tonight, go back home. Take another year 
  of life. You’ll always get another chance to die.” 
  Davran slumped against a twisted tree, turning 
  away from the wall. Kosia might as well have been 
  speaking to him, and she was right. He thought of his 
  home, and of Elena. He imagined all the lands he had 
  never seen, and all the wonders they held. He imagined 
  the games he had played as a child. 
  After all, Death would still be waiting next year. 
  ! 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RUNNING RAVENLOFT 
  13 
  EVEN MORE 
  FUN & GAMES 
  Cards, Dice and Darts in the Land of Mists 
  by Andrew Hackard 
  andrew@kargatane.com 
   
  “It’s all fun and games until somebody 
  puts an eye out.” 
  —Maligno the Carrionette 
  n a moonless night, several merchants and 
  traders and two families were crouched near 
  the small fire in the taproom of the Wing-
  less Tressym, in Kantora. Their attempts to 
  keep out winter’s chill were foiled when the door 
  slammed open. Amid the snow and the chill wind, a 
  figure dressed in green and blue strode to the bar. Two 
  fur traders hurried to close the door behind him. 
  “Milady,” said the stranger to the woman behind 
  the bar, “I am a humble entertainer from a far-off land, 
  recently arrived in your fair city.” He ignored a snort 
  from one of the fur traders. “My name is Samele. 
  Perhaps I could entertain your clients, in return for a 
  drink and a bowl of that delectable-smelling stew.” He 
  gazed deeply into her, with his deep violet eyes, as she 
  fixed a bowl of the stew and pulled a mug of stout. 
  Then Samele turned to the crowd, his voice golden 
  with honey. “What might I sing for you first? Perhaps a 
  lay about a warm summer’s day I shared with a lady 
  many years ago? Or the tragic tale of Alexi Shadow-
  born and Elena Faith-hold? Or,” turning to the 
  enthralled children, “the story of Prince Othmar and 
  his faithful friend Sir Tristen?” 
  “Or maybe,” growled a voice from behind, “you 
  could shut your hole and come over here to earn that 
  dinner.” 
  Samele turned slowly to see three burly men, 
  dressed in identical clothes, of a cut more reminiscent 
  of Richemulot than Nova Vaasa. “Gentlemen,” said the 
  minstrel, “do you have a request? Perhaps a marching 
  song for the long trek home?” One of the men stood up 
  and pulled a chair from the next table. 
  “Tell me, fop, do you play cards?” 
  Samele smiled. Loosening his coin purse and 
  fluffing his sleeves, he sat down. “Do I play cards, 
  gentlemen? Simply name the game . . .” 
  Author’s Note: Some people have asked why the 
  Vistani would put up with people using tarokka decks 
  to gamble with. My answer is simple. Historically, our 
  own playing cards were derived from tarot decks, 
  though the symbolism is now far removed. It stands to 
  reason that Ravenloft might have a similar process. 
  Rather than create a whole new deck, however, I’ve 
  chosen simply to use the tarokka as the path of least 
  resistance. Assume, if you prefer, that this is the “fake” 
  tarokka used for playing games, rather than the “real” 
  tarokka used for telling fortunes. 
  Swords 
  A Game of Strategy and Luck 
  This four-player game requires a deck of tarokka cards. 
  The high deck is not used. The forty cards of the low 
  deck are shuffled and dealt around the table, starting 
  with the dealer’s right. Once all cards are dealt, the 
  player to the dealer’s right bids on how many tricks she 
  thinks she can take. Bidding then proceeds around the 
  table, ending with the dealer. Players sitting opposite 
  each other are partners, and the partnership contract is 
  the total of the two individual bids. 
  Play is simple. The first player may lead any card, 
  and the other players must, in turn, follow suit if possi-
  ble. The highest card played of the suit led wins the 
  O 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RUNNING RAVENLOFT 
  14 
  trick, which is placed face down in front of the winning 
  player. (Archetype cards beat all others in their suits.) 
  This player then leads for the second trick. If a player 
  cannot follow suit, she may discard any other suit, or 
  may play a card from the suit of swords. These cards 
  are trump, and any sword card beats any other card 
  (with higher swords beating lower ones, of course). 
  When all ten tricks have been played, the hand is 
  scored. A partnership that did not make their joint bid 
  loses five points for every trick bid. A partnership that 
  made their contract gains ten points for every trick bid, 
  minus two points per extra trick. So if the bid is four 
  and the partnership made six, they would score forty for 
  the bid, minus four for two extra tricks, for a total of 36. 
  There are two special bids, however, that alter 
  these scoring rules slightly. 
  Any player may make a bid of “Lose.” This bid 
  means that she is going to set out to lose all the tricks. 
  She must still follow all the rules about following suit. 
  If she does, in fact, manage to lose all the tricks, she 
  scores 50 points for her partnership. However, if she 
  takes even one trick, she loses 50 points instead. The 
  partner of the “Lose” bidder must make her bid on her 
  own, while also “protecting” her partner. However, in 
  this case she is not penalized for excess tricks (although 
  the opponents still are). Any tricks taken by the “Lose” 
  player do not count toward the partnership total. 
  The other bid is open only to the dealer. After 
  hearing the other three bids, the dealer may make a bid 
  of “Break.” This bid means that she thinks she can 
  “break” the opponents’ contract (i.e., cause them to take 
  fewer tricks than they bid). Further, the “break” bidder 
  is not required to follow suit, and may play whichever 
  card she wishes. As in the “lose” bid, any tricks taken 
  by the dealer do not count toward her partner’s bid, and 
  any overtricks taken by her partner are not penalized. If 
  the “break” is successful, the dealer scores 100 points 
  and the opponents score zero. (They are not penalized, 
  however.) However, if the “break” is unsuccessful, the 
  opponents score 20 points for each trick bid, plus a 
  bonus of five points per overtrick. The dealer scores 
  zero. 
  Games can be played for a certain number of 
  hands, usually twelve, or to a certain number of points, 
  usually 300. It is common for games of swords to be 
  played for money, usually a copper per point, but other 
  stakes can and have been used. Rumor has it that Mal-
  occhio Aderre once surrounded a Vistani camp with his 
  men, then forced the raunie’s two sons to play a game 
  of swords with him and his lieutenant using the raunie’s 
  tarokka deck. For every hand the Vistani youths won, 
  Malocchio allowed one Vistana to go free. For every 
  hand Aderre won, the raunie lost another finger. 
  Wolf Cubs 
  A Game for Children 
  This is a very simple game, requiring nothing beyond 
  two children and some small candies. Each child is 
  given the same number of candies (usually five or ten). 
  They sit on opposite sides of the table. Each child holds 
  up their hands, one in a fist and one hand open. They 
  strike their fists into their palms eight times, in time 
  with the following chant: 
  “Wolves in the forest, 
  Wolves in the trees. 
  How many wolves 
  Does the shepherd boy see?” 
  On “see,” the children bang their fist into their 
  hands for the eighth time and extend any number of 
  fingers from zero to five. If both numbers are even or 
  both numbers are odd, then the player with the lower 
  number has to give the other player a piece of candy. 
  However, if one number is odd and one number is even, 
  then the player with the higher number has to give up a 
  piece of candy. If both players show the same number, 
  they each eat a piece of candy. The game is over when 
  one player runs out of candy. 
  What is not often remembered is that the chant is 
  based on a true incident. A young shepherd boy in Ver-
  brek ran from the fields to his parents’ house, saying he 
  had seen several puppies playing in the woods. His 
  parents opened the door to see him holding a wolf cub . 
  . . with the mother wolf about ten feet behind him, 
  ready to pounce. Terrified, his parents slammed the 
  door in their son’s face. His body was never found. 
  Caltrops 
  (“Running With the Pack”) 
  A Game of Dice 
  This game is for five people, each with a four-sided die 
  in a different color. The sequence of play is as follows: 
  1. All five players put a coin (usually a silver piece) 
  into the pot and throw the dice. 
  2. Each player then puts a number of coins into the 
  pot equal to the number thrown. (In other words, if 
  your die shows 3, you put in three coins.) 
  3. Any player who matches the number thrown by 
  another player is out for that round. (Players with 
  matched dice are called “packs.”) 
  4. If no player has an unmatched die, all players add a 
  coin to the pot and throw again. 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RUNNING RAVENLOFT 
  15 
  5. If only one player has an unmatched die (called a 
  “lone wolf”), he gets the pot for the round. 
  6. If two or three players are lone wolves, however, 
  then strategy comes into play. A lone wolf may 
  suggest a split of the pot with any other lone 
  wolves before any throw. If they agree, then they 
  split the pot and the round ends. (The split must be 
  even, so any extra coins stay in the pot for the next 
  round.) If even one lone wolf does not agree, how-
  ever, the remaining lone wolves must throw their 
  dice again. 
  7. A player who matches dice thrown on previous 
  rounds is said to have “joined the pack,” and is out 
  for the round. Players who match each other are 
  also out for the round. If all players match, then the 
  round is over and a new one begins with all players 
  putting a coin into the pot. If at any time there is a 
  single lone wolf left, he wins the pot. Lone wolves 
  may elect to split the pot before any throw rather 
  than continue. 
  Example of Play: Our five players are imaginatively 
  named A, B, C, D, and E. 
  # Before the first throw, all five players put a coin 
  into the pot. Pot: 5. 
  # First throw: A 3, B 4, C 2, D 2, E 1. Pot: 17. C 
  and D are out; A, B, and E throw again. 
  # Second throw: A 4, B 2, E 3. Pot: 26. B is out. A 
  suggests a split, E declines. 
  # Third throw: A 3, E 1. Pot: 30. A suggests a split, 
  E declines. 
  # Fourth throw: A 1, E 1. Pot: 32. A and E match, 
  so are both out (and A kicks E under the table). 
  # A new round begins, so all five players put a coin 
  into the pot. Pot: 37. 
  # First throw: A 2, B 1, C 1, D 4, E 2. Pot: 47. All 
  players but D are out, so D takes the pot. 
  General Rules for Darts in 
  Ravenloft 
  Dartboards in Ravenloft are somewhat different than 
  dartboards on Earth. They lack the bull’s-eye, and the 
  grid is painted on rather than formed with wire. Also, 
  there is only one ring, about one-third of the way in 
  from the edge of the board (about where the triple ring 
  is located on a standard dartboard, but a little closer to 
  the edge). This ring counts double. The 20 is at the top 
  of the board, and the sequence of sectors goes clock-
  wise as follows: 20, 7, 17, 13, 3, 10, 19, 9, 5, 15, 1, 14, 
  4, 8, 18, 11, 2, 12, and 16. 
  As many gamers can’t be trusted with sharp 
  objects, it’s a good idea to simulate dart games rather 
  than actually roleplay them with standard equipment. A 
  d20 and d10 in matching colors work nicely for a single 
  dart (so three pairs would work well for the usual three-
  dart throw). Roll the d20 to determine the sector of the 
  dartboard hit, and the d10 to determine where that 
  sector is hit. A roll of 1, 2, or 3 is a hit off the board. A 
  roll of 0 is a hit in the double ring. Anything else is a 
  single hit in that sector. (For games where it’s relevant, 
  4–6 is outside the double ring and 7–9 is inside.) 
  This is a simple and easy system. However, if you 
  want a slightly more complex system, you could allow 
  any or all of the following: 
  # Allow the player to use his or her character’s 
  missile adjustment (from Dexterity) as a modifier 
  to any one die roll, in either direction. So, if a PC 
  has a +2 missile adjustment, that player may 
  change any single die by 0, 1, or 2 units in either 
  direction. An especially kind DM will allow split-
  ting this bonus. 
  # Allow the player to make a Gambling proficiency 
  check. On a successful check, the player may 
  adjust any one die by a single step. 
  # If a PC has dart proficiency (or even specializa-
  tion), then he may forgo the simple system entirely 
  and make a “to hit” roll instead. Any specific 
  sector should be considered to have AC 5 (AC 15 
  under D&D third edition rules). Attempting to hit a 
  specific part of a sector should be considered a 
  called shot, imposing penalties to the “to hit” roll. 
  (I suggest a penalty of –4 to hit the outer or inner 
  section of a sector, and –8 to hit the double ring in 
  a specific sector.) Otherwise, just roll a d4, count-
  ing a 4 as hitting the double ring in the sector hit. 
  Use of magical darts would, of course, be a gross 
  breach of protocol. 
  Here are three dart games commonly played in tap-
  rooms across the Demiplane of Dread. 
  Head to Heel 
  A Game of Speed 
  Each player attempts to be the fastest to hit the numbers 
  in sequence three times: once outside the double ring, 
  once inside, and once in the double ring. A player’s first 
  sequence may start with either 1 or 20, but the other 
  two sequences must start with that number as well. The 
  winner of the game is the first one to end his third se-
  quence. Traditionally, the player least far along is 
  granted the privilege of buying the next round of drinks. 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RUNNING RAVENLOFT 
  16 
  Crosses and Rings 
  A Game of Greed 
  Before the game starts, the players agree on a range of 
  values (usually 15 to 20). Each dart hitting one of the 
  target numbers goes toward “closing” that number; it 
  takes three hits to close a number. (The name of the 
  game comes from the usual scoring method; the first hit 
  is marked with a circle, the second with a horizontal 
  slash through the circle, and the third with a vertical 
  slash through the circle.) A hit in the double ring counts 
  as two hits. Hits to non-target numbers are wasted. 
  Once a player closes a number, he may then start to 
  score points by hitting it again. Until the opposing 
  player(s) close out the same number, every hit scores 
  that many points. For instance, if Francis has closed out 
  17 but Ernest has not, Francis can score 17 points by 
  hitting 17 with his darts. When all players have closed 
  out a number, it becomes “dead,” scoring no points for 
  anyone. 
  The game ends when one player closes out all the 
  target numbers. He receives a 50-point bonus for doing 
  so. The player with the most points wins the game. 
  Ter Quat Ter 
  A Game of Reduction 
  The name of the game is patterna for “three four three,” 
  or 343. This number is 7 x 7 x 7, and therefore holds 
  great mystic significance for the Vistani. However, the 
  dart game is completely unrelated to any magical prop-
  erties of this number; it’s simply the starting score of all 
  the players. 
  The goal is to be the first player to reach zero 
  points. Every number hit reduces your score by that 
  many points (double if you hit the double ring). A 
  player can’t go below zero, so if the number hit is larger 
  than the number of points remaining, he regains all 
  points lost during that throw and is finished. (In other 
  words, if Denys has 10 points and throws an 8 and a 4, 
  he goes back to 10, and his turn is over.) The first 
  player to reach zero exactly wins the game. (It doesn’t 
  matter on which dart the winner reaches zero; it’s 
  assumed he intentionally misses with any remaining 
  darts.) Often, it is played for money, with every losing 
  player giving as many copper pieces as he had points 
  remaining to the winner. 
  A common variation on this game requires players 
  to “enter” and “exit” with doubles. This means that the 
  player’s score cannot be reduced until he hits the 
  double ring, and that he must hit the double ring to go 
  out. (The double ring, taken as a whole, is AC 0 in 
  AD&D second edition and AC 20 in D&D third 
  edition.) So, if a player’s score reduces to exactly one 
  point, he can’t go out. Most taprooms will play that, in 
  such a case, he loses the throws for that round, just as if 
  he went below zero. However, some places (usually the 
  rougher joints) will force the player to go back to 343 
  and start over. 
  The three large men surveyed the body of the minstrel 
  from across the room. 
  “Well, I still say he had it coming to him. Trying to 
  cheat us, hmph.” The speaker produced a nine of 
  swords from the minstrel’s sleeve, then let the min-
  strel’s arm fall to the floor. 
  “Yes, Henrik, but what a mess. And the innkeeper 
  lost all that business from the other patrons. How are 
  we supposed to make that up to him?” 
  “Well, for starters,” said Henrik, “he’ll have some 
  more of that fine stew tomorrow.” 
  The three men glanced over at the minstrel and 
  grinned. 
  !
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RUNNING RAVENLOFT 
  17 
  TERRIBLE 
  TRANSFORMATIONS 
  Twenty Terrifying Terror Tracks to Teach and Taunt 
  by the RAVENLOFT-L Mailing List and Stuart Turner 
  stu@kargatane.com 
   
  INTRODUCTION 
  n mid-2000, the Kargatane ran a competition 
  for Terror Tracks—the ten-stage process 
  introduced in Domains of Dread that can be 
  used on heroes or nonplayer characters as a 
  result of failed power checks. Many entries later, we 
  Kargatane have selected our favourites and presented 
  them below for your enjoyment. A big “thank you” to 
  everyone for their inspired entries! 
  Ernst Turagdon’s Diary  
  15th September, 754 
  It never ceases to amaze me how people want to see 
  reflections of humanity in monstrosity. Stories of 
  women turning into spiders, sailors turning into raven-
  ous fish-beasts, and scholars turning into amorphous 
  mist-creatures—they all seem absurd, yet we are 
  forever receiving reports of such “transformations.” 
  Personally, the only convincing transformation I’ve 
  seen was when Monsieur Flaunteur in Dementlieu 
  turned that lovely lady in her underclothes into a small 
  rabbit. I don’t know what arcane magical device he kept 
  in the back of that closet, but it is surely more impres-
  sive than most of the stories that walk in (but rarely out) 
  of our bookshop here in Vallaki.  
  Still, the number and variety of these stories does 
  warrant comment to Lady Kazandra. I think I shall 
  compile a report for her on this phenomenon. Perhaps 
  she can understand the strange occurrence that warps 
  people’s minds to believe in these supposed horrible 
  physical transformations as punishment for evildoings. 
  (If this were even remotely true, I am sure I myself 
  would have suffered considerable tortuous mutilations 
  in the course of my corrupt and malicious existence—
  why in the Mists would I escape such “punishment”?) 
  As usual, I will have to cover up the ineptitude of 
  the rest of the riff-raff I must work with in this book-
  shop. Were they to write the report, Lady Kazandra 
  would receive ridiculous stories about Urik von 
  Kharkov turning into a great cat, and Tristen Hiregaard 
  turning into an insane murderer! 
  Thank the Mists I have more sense than to peddle 
  such rubbish. 
  Contest Winner 
  Track of the Skin Thief 
  By Dustin “Grigg Deadbreaker” Rathbun 
  dustinrathbun@hotmail.com 
  Application: This track is for those PCs who 
  assume false identities or pretend to be someone they 
  are not; not necessarily for some far-reaching scheme to 
  gain power or fame, but for as little as a single night 
  manipulating others into giving away something of 
  value. For example, one using the name and identity of 
  a nobleman in order to secure free lodgings, food fit for 
  a king, a horse, or perhaps to seduce a young maiden 
  for the night, might be fit for this track. 
  Stage I: The PC becomes adept at playing the role 
  of another, gaining the disguise proficiency. If the PC 
  already possesses the proficiency, he gains a +2 bonus 
  to disguise checks. However, the PC’s skin becomes 
  itchy and he suffers the effects of an irritation spell 
  (Player’s Handbook) whenever he maintains a disguise 
  for more than an hour’s time. 
  Stage II: The PC’s fingernails become thick and 
  black, acting as small claws. The PC now gains a +2 to 
  damage for unarmed combat. The PC also develops an 
  I 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RUNNING RAVENLOFT 
  18 
  interest in shiny jewelry, particularly expensive rings 
  and bracelets. 
  Stage III: The PC’s skin becomes tougher, giving 
  him a +1 bonus to AC. A patch of dry skin, however, 
  roughly one foot in diameter, develops somewhere on 
  his body. This patch is similar to sunburn that has 
  begun peeling, and reduces the PC’s Charisma by one 
  point to those who notice the deformity. 
  Stage IV: Overnight, the PC’s claws become even 
  thicker and grow up to four inches long. The claws now 
  inflict 1d4 damage. The claws may be trimmed, but 
  they grow back extremely quickly, at the rate of about 
  one inch per day. Unless trimmed or somehow hidden, 
  these claws reduce the PC’s Charisma by one point. 
  Stage V: The PC gains one point of Strength, but 
  small nubs begin to form between the PC’s fingers, 
  causing all checks requiring manual dexterity or fine 
  manipulation to suffer a –2 penalty. Spellcasters must 
  make a successful Dexterity check in order to cast 
  spells with somatic components. 
  Stage VI: The PC’s skin becomes even more 
  durable, granting him a +2 bonus to AC. The patch of 
  peeling skin triples in size, and coarse hairs begin to 
  force themselves out of the affected area. The finger 
  nubs also continue to grow. The PC’s deformities are 
  now nearly impossible to conceal, and he suffers an 
  additional loss of 2 points of Charisma. The PC begins 
  to have disturbing nightmares of being skinned alive by 
  his own hands. 
  Stage VII: The PC’s finger nubs develop into full, 
  clawed fingers. The PC now causes 1d6 damage with 
  his claws, which now measure between 6 and 8 inches 
  long. The new fingers are now fully flexible, and 
  former penalties caused by the nubs disappear. The 
  patch of deformed skin grows even larger, and now 
  begins to peel off in sections several inches in diameter, 
  leaving patches of thick fur beneath it, like the pelt of 
  an animal. Viewing the PC’s peeling skin is grounds for 
  a horror check. The PC becomes desperate to discover a 
  way to hide his monstrous appearance, and may fly into 
  a berserk rage if it is exposed. 
  Stage VIII: The PC gains large, sharp teeth, and 
  can bite opponents for 1d4 damage, but the PC’s face 
  becomes twisted and bear-like. Charisma is reduced 
  another 3 points. The PC is now only capable of gain-
  ing sustenance from raw meat. 
  Stage IX: The PC’s arms lengthen, and his 
  Strength increases by 2 points (max of 18), but his mind 
  becomes more bestial and savage, reducing his Intelli-
  gence by 2 points. 
  Stage X: The PC gains the ability to fashion a skin 
  suit from a living being. The PC’s true skin completely 
  sloughs off (taking away all AC bonuses gained from 
  his dark gifts), revealing him to be a true skin thief. 
  Semi-finalist 
  Track of the Banshee 
  By Stefan Costilow 
  Mac_costilow@hotmail.com 
  Application: While the “natural” banshee is the 
  spirit of an evil female elf, the dark powers might curse 
  any female character to this fate. Likely candidates 
  would include those who show marked contempt or 
  intolerance for those around them. As the character 
  descends into evil and undeath, those feelings deepen 
  into a hatred of all living things, until she no longer 
  recognizes or accepts even her fellow party members. 
  Stage I: The PC gains 25% magic resistance, but is 
  unaware of this at this time. She exudes an aura of 
  contempt that animals notice, making them nervous 
  around her. 
  Stage II: The PC gains the ability to sense the 
  presence of living creatures up to five miles away. 
  Animals now totally avoid her presence, and when 
  forced to stay near, will flee at the first opportunity. 
  Stage III: The PC’s natural Armor Class is 
  reduced to 0. The aura of contempt now extends to 
  people, leading to a –1 reaction adjustment.  
  Stage IV: The PC can now only be harmed by 
  magic or weapons of +1 or better enchantment. The 
  aura that surrounds her intensifies to the point where 
  the reaction penalty increases to –2, with no reaction 
  better than neutral. 
  Stage V: The PC becomes immune to all forms of 
  sleep, charm or hold spells, but she suffers a –1 Dexter-
  ity penalty in the presence of holy symbols or holy 
  water due to discomfort. 
  Stage VI: The PC’s magic resistance increases to 
  50%, and she becomes aware of its existence. Her aura 
  deepens so that flowers and other delicate plants within 
  100 feet will wither and die over 1d6 turns. 
  Stage VII: The PC gains immunity to all forms of 
  cold or electrical damage. Holy symbols and water that 
  strike her now deal 2d4 damage. 
  Stage VIII: The PC’s aura of hatred is so intense 
  that it marks her features, causing all who view her to 
  save vs. spell or be affected as a cause fear spell. Her 
  body becomes completely incorporeal, shutting off her 
  last links to the physical world. 
  Stage IX: The PC can now deal 1d8 points of 
  damage with her touch, but she can now be turned as 
  special undead. 
  Stage X: The character finally gains the ability to 
  keen once per night, forcing all that hear her to save vs. 
  death magic or die immediately. She is now vulnerable 
  to the dispel evil spell, which can instantly and perma-
  nently destroy her. 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RUNNING RAVENLOFT 
  19 
  Semi-finalist 
  Track of the Boneless 
  By Wes Schneider 
  Dendread@home.com 
  Application: Cowardice as a personality trait can 
  be acceptable for farmers and city dwellers, but, by 
  definition, is not a quality of a hero. Turning tail in the 
  face of danger not only jeopardizes the life of the 
  coward but all those who rely on him. This track 
  focuses on the “spineless” character and serves as 
  punishment for criminal cowardice.  
  Stage I: The new elasticity of the PC’s skin gives 
  him a +1 bonus to Dexterity. However, his bones begin 
  to rot away, reducing his Constitution by 1 point. 
  Stage II: The chill of death renders the PC invisi-
  ble to infravision but decreases his Intelligence by 1 
  point. Also, skin begins to hang off the PC’s bones, 
  dropping Charisma by 1 point. 
  Stage III: The heightened elasticity of the PC’s 
  flesh allows him to stretch appendages by ten inches; 
  this makes walking more difficult, reducing movement 
  rate by 2. 
  Stage IV: The PC can now change his height by 
  nearly two feet; however, pale drooping flesh in any 
  form lowers his Charisma by 2 points. His bones also 
  continue to disintegrate, lowering Constitution by 
  another point. 
  Stage V: Loose skin allows the character to slap 
  for 1d4 points of damage; however his dying body 
  lowers both Intelligence and movement rate another 2 
  points. 
  Stage VI: The character’s features become malle-
  able, duplicating the effects of a change self spell, but 
  holy water and items now do 1d4 damage. 
  Stage VII: The majority of the PC’s bones 
  dissolve, rendering him immune to bludgeoning attacks 
  but dropping movement rate by another 2 points and 
  lowering his Charisma by 4 points. 
  Stage VIII: The PC is able to run at his original 
  movement rate using legs and arms, but is now affected 
  by spells affecting the undead. 
  Stage IX: With a successful attack roll, the PC can 
  constrict an opponent in a crushing hug for 2d4 damage 
  per round until the foes escapes through a successful 
  Bend Bars roll, The PC can now be turned and is 
  damaged by holy water for 1d8 damage. 
  Stage X: The character loses another 2 points of 
  Intelligence, but can compress his bonelss body into 
  tiny spaces and through narrow gaps. 
  Semi-finalist 
  Track of the Chosen One 
  By Wes Schneider 
  Dendread@home.com 
  Application: This terror track is suited to a 
  servant: he who unswervingly and unquestioningly 
  follows the orders of a single master. Any who use 
  orders as an excuse to explain their heinous actions or 
  allow themselves to be completely dominated by 
  another (either PC or NPC), are suitable for this path. 
  Others who may be appropriate candidates for this track 
  are members of military groups and those who originate 
  from a domain steeped in foul magics. 
  Stage I: The PC’s fingers elongate by half their 
  current size. Because of these longer, more slender 
  fingers all Dexterity checks involving the use of one’s 
  hands gain a +2 bonus (adjustments to thieves’ abilties 
  apply). However, this abnormality is difficult to hide 
  and inflicts a Charisma penalty of –1 if not disguised. 
  Stage II: The PC’s skin hardens and becomes 
  leathery, dropping his natural AC by 1. This new trait is 
  accompanied by stiffness not found in natural skin. As 
  such, the natural flexing and movements of joints and 
  muscles causes the skin to crack in several areas 
  forming countless small wounds. This affliction causes 
  a –1 Constitution penalty. 
  Stage III: As if to match the growth of the PC’s 
  fingers, his nails elongate nearly two inches, ending in 
  needle-sharp points. This change allows the PC to per-
  form a raking attack capable of inflicting 1d4 points of 
  damage per hand. By this point the PC begins to take on 
  the mentality of the creature he is becoming; thus it is 
  more difficult to resist the orders of his master. If the 
  character wants to defy an order there is a 30% chance 
  that he will be unable to and must fulfill the command 
  to its fullest extent. 
  Stage IV: The PC’s body continues to change; skin 
  stretches, eyes darken and sink, bones subtly warp, and 
  features begin to twist. Overall these changes lower the 
  PC’s Charisma by another 2 points. The PC’s bodily 
  fluids become toxic. Those who come into contact with 
  his blood, spittle, etc, must save vs. poison or suffer an 
  immediate 1d4 points of damage. 
  Stage V: The PC’s teeth sharpen until his mouth is 
  filled with jagged points. This alteration allows the PC 
  to make a bite attack for 1d4 points of damage. Though 
  most would never consider biting into their foes, this 
  change accentuates the PC’s brutish nature over his 
  intellect, dropping his Intelligence by 2 points. 
  Stage VI: The PC’s skin continues to harden, 
  dropping AC by another point. This change brings on 
  even greater stiffness then before, causing constant 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RUNNING RAVENLOFT 
  20 
  sores and gashes to cover the body, lowering Constitu-
  tion by 2 points due to constant pain and infection. 
  Stage VII: The feral nature exposed by the change 
  allows the PC to make a brutal attack, 2 claw slashes 
  and a bite in a round. However, due to the savagery the 
  PC now exhibits, he is unable to retreat from combat 
  for any reason until he or his opponent is slain. 
  Stage VIII: The PC’s teeth continue to elongate 
  into vicious, blackened fangs, allowing his bite attack to 
  inflict 1d8 points of damage. This obvious growth, as 
  well as the fearsome continence the PC now possesses, 
  drops his Charisma by another two points. 
  Stage IX: The toxic nature of the PC’s bodily 
  fluids increases to a point that anyone bitten by the 
  character must make a successful saving throw vs. 
  poison or take an additional 1d8 damage for each of the 
  next 1d6 rounds. The PC now becomes even more 
  likely to follow the will of his master. Thus he now has 
  a 60% chance to be unable to defy his master’s wishes. 
  Stage X: At this point there is a 20% chance that 
  the PC will turn on his master, hunting him with 
  singleminded ferocity. However, it is more likely (80%) 
  the PC will stay subservient to that master. There is a 
  1% cumulative chance that per round, per battle, the 
  character will turn on his master as above. 
  Semi-finalist 
  Track of the Dream Spawn 
  By Wes Schneider 
  Dendread@home.com 
  Application: This terror track is the result of a 
  single mortal attracting not just the attentions of the 
  dark powers, but also those of the enigmatic Nightmare 
  Court. Any character who has encountered one or more 
  members of the Nightmare Court and has proved inter-
  esting or amusing to them could be a valid victim for 
  this gradual change into a dweller of nightmares. At the 
  completion of this track the character will have trans-
  formed completely into a lesser dream spawn of the 
  shadow morph variety. 
  Stage I: The PC’s hands grow distinct claws and 
  elongate noticeably. Though this does give the PC the 
  ability to make a claw attack for 1d4 points of damage, 
  this highly visible deformity lowers his Charisma by 1 
  point. 
  Stage II: The PC’s gradual shift into a dream 
  creature attracts several other morphs. Though the 
  creatures will not appear to him or aid him in any way, 
  their constant whispering grants the PC a 30% chance 
  to understand their language. These continuous voices 
  in the PC’s mind cause a constant distraction; as such 
  all rolls suffer a –1 penalty, and the PC suffers a –50% 
  penalty to all Detect Noise rolls. 
  Stage III: The needs of shadow morphs begin to 
  complement the PC’s natural diet. As such, any time 
  another character fails a fear or horror check the PC 
  regains one lost hit point. A more immediate result of 
  this failed check is a swift change in skin color to a 
  light gray, reducing Charisma by another 1 point. 
  Stage IV: The PC gains suction cup-like growths 
  on his palms, revolting viewers and lowering his 
  Charisma another 2 points. However, these growths 
  allow the PC to make an intellect drain attack with a 
  successful attack roll. Victims of this attack sustain no 
  damage but temporarily lose 1d4+1 points of Intelli-
  gence. This lost Intelligence is transferred to the PC in 
  the form of thoughts, memories, fears, etc. 
  Stage V: The constant whispering of hidden dream 
  creatures finally bears fruit, allowing the PC to under-
  stand, but not speak, their dreamlike language. The 
  downside is that the voices, which were once simply 
  gray noise in the back of his mind, become a constant, 
  questioning chorus. This causes all rolls to suffer a –2 
  penalty. The character automatically fails all Detect 
  Noise rolls, unable to hear above the din. 
  Stage VI: The PC begins to phase in and out of 
  reality, but is able to control this to a limited degree. As 
  such, the PC may assume wraithform up to five times a 
  day for up to a half an hour each use before he is 
  naturally thrust back into corporeal form. However, if 
  the PC does not assume wraithform for the full two-
  and-a-half hours each day, during the next day he will 
  phase in and out at random times to make up for the 
  time lost the day before. The current day’s requirements 
  are not met by time spent in wraithform catching up for 
  the previous day. 
  Stage VII: The PC gains the ability to polymorph 
  into any form for up to a three turns, five times per day. 
  As per the wraithform ability the PC must spend his 
  maximum time in another form or the ability activates 
  randomly the next day. This constant changing from 
  shape to shape causes the PC to gradually lose his 
  concept of an original form; as such his ability to deal 
  with others decreases, lowering his Charisma another 2 
  points. 
  Stage VIII: The PC gains a morph’s immunity to 
  attacks made with weapons of less then +2 enchant-
  ment. However, morphs rely on their constant positions 
  in the realms of dreams to maintain this defense, as 
  such the character partially fazes into the realm of 
  dreams. From this point on the character acts as though 
  under the effects of a permanent wraithform spell and is 
  unable to make any physical attacks, except his intellect 
  drain, on all but ethereal and dream creatures. 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RUNNING RAVENLOFT 
  21 
  Stage IX: This step completes the PC’s physical 
  transformation into a shadow morph. He now gains the 
  ability to make a horror attack, solidifying himself into 
  his true form and bellowing out a dreadful screech that 
  causes all who see him to experience a fear check. 
  Stage X: The character gains full mastery of 
  Dream Language and phases completely into the realm 
  of dreams, becoming a servant of one or more members 
  of the Nightmare Court. 
  Finalist 
  Track of the Ettercap 
  By Kevin Rogers 
  gjr@cs.monash.edu.au 
  Application: This track would be appropriate for 
  any character who wilfully abandons or condemns 
  others to wilderness hazards such as quicksand, preda-
  tors, exposure or starvation. Bandits, assassins, fallen 
  rangers and characters who use poison would also be 
  potential candidates for this track. 
  Stage I: The PC can now move silently and hide in 
  dense wilderness surroundings with a 50% chance of 
  success. He becomes uneasy when in exposed in out-
  door locations such as plains or the open road. All 
  proficiency checks and saving throws suffer a –1 
  penalty in such surroundings. 
  Stage II: The PC gains 1 point of Dexterity, but 
  loses 1 point of Intelligence as instinct begins to replace 
  reason. 
  Stage III: The PC’s saliva becomes mildly poison-
  ous, causing 1d6 points of damage and inflicting a –1 
  penalty to hit unless the target saves vs poison. The PC 
  must consume at least two pounds of raw meat each 
  week or lose 1d3 hit points per day until he does. 
  Stage IV: The PC gains the ability to communicate 
  with normal and giant spiders, and such creatures react 
  to him one category better than they otherwise would. 
  His voice becomes a disturbing chitter, causing him to 
  suffer a loss of 1 point of Charisma. 
  Stage V: The PC develops a thick, leathery hide 
  tufted with wiry black hair. His natural Armor Class 
  becomes 8, but he now constantly smells of decaying 
  organic matter, resulting in a –1 reaction penalty and 
  betraying his presence unless he is in a wilderness 
  environment. 
  Stage VI: The PC gains a bite attack that causes 
  1d8 points of damage, and may inject his poison. His 
  features become brutish and disfigured, reducing his 
  Charisma by another 2 points. 
  Stage VII: The PC can now go without food and 
  water for up to three weeks if he first consumes his own 
  body weight in raw flesh. During the first week the 
  character’s Dexterity and Charisma each suffer a –3 
  penalty and his movement rate is reduced by 25%. 
  Whenever sufficient raw meat is available, the PC must 
  succeed in a Wisdom check or gorge himself as above. 
  Stage VIII: The PC’s back hunches and his arms 
  become elongated and spidery. He gains 2 points of 
  Dexterity, and two claw attacks causing 1d3 points of 
  damage each with a reach of six feet, but suffers a –1 
  Strength penalty on any action using his arms, and a –2 
  penalty to Charisma due to his grotesquely misshapen 
  body. Normal armor and clothing will no longer fit him. 
  Stage IX: The PC can now use glands on his 
  abdomen to secrete silk similar to that used by spiders. 
  He gains the equivalent of the set snares proficiency, 
  but any attempt to communicate verbally requires an 
  Intelligence check if the situation is even slightly stress-
  ful. Combat, interrogation, debates and haggling are all 
  considered stressful situations. 
  Stage X: The PC’s poison now causes death in 1d4 
  turns unless the victim’s save vs. poison succeeds. The 
  PC can now only digest raw, still-warm meat, and no 
  longer receives a Wisdom check to resist gorging 
  himself if the opportunity presents itself. 
  Semi-finalist 
  Track of the Gargoyle 
  By Derek Longjurny  
  Longjurny1@aol.com 
  Application: The track of the gargoyle could be 
  applicable to any character who exhibits a lack of com-
  passion for those in need, especially those who are 
  supposed to be under their care. This is especially 
  fitting to PCs who fail in their duties as guardians of 
  their faith (priests) or protectors of the populace (city 
  guard) through neglect, greed, or by turning a blind eye 
  to those who seek their help. Alternatively, a PC who 
  exhibits a bestial nature, causing undue carnage, taking 
  advantage of helpless people and practicing torture may 
  be destined for this terror track. 
  Stage I: The PC develops excellent night vision, 
  able to see with the smallest light source, but finds that 
  bright light imposes a –1 penalty to attack rolls. 
  Stage II: PC no longer has any need to eat or 
  drink, and any attempt to do so causes violent illness. 
  Stage III: The PC’s Strength increases by 1 point. 
  Wisdom, however, decreases by 1 point. 
  Stage IV: The PC grows claws granting the ability 
  to inflict 1d4 points of damage in unarmed melee. 
  These nonretractable claws reduce Dexterity by 2 
  points when attempting fine work, and disrupt spells 
  with a somatic component. 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RUNNING RAVENLOFT 
  22 
  Stage V: The PC’s skin becomes thick and stony, 
  giving a base Armor Class of 5, while reducing 
  Charisma by 2 points. 
  Stage VI: The PC’s face becomes distorted and 
  grotesque, causing Charisma to drop to half of its 
  current value, but granting the ability to bite for 1d6 
  points of damage. 
  Stage VII: From now on, +1 or better magical 
  weapons are required to hit the PC. Every check made 
  to determine the reaction of an NPC automatically 
  shifts one step towards hostile. 
  Stage VIII: The PC grows a set of horns; he can 
  attack with these horms to inflict 2d4 points of damage. 
  The sight of the PC is cause for a horror check. 
  Stage IX: The PC becomes a hulking, feral beast. 
  All three physical ability scores increase by 2 points 
  each, but all mental ability scores drop by 2 points each. 
  Stage X: The PC sprouts great stony wings, which 
  enable him to fly at a rate of 15 with maneuverability 
  class C. His bestial nature is complete and Wisdom and 
  Intelligence scores each drop by 2 points. Ability scores 
  cannot be reduced below 5. 
  Semi-finalist 
  Track of the Ghoul 
  By Freidrich Gothe 
  fgothe@hotmail.com 
  Application: Grave robbers, cannibals, and 
  necromancers are all suitable candidates for this terror 
  track. Also, characters who exhibit an interest in the 
  macabre or delight in torture and mutilation may find 
  themselves slipping down the dark twists of this 
  particular road through the Mists. 
  Stage I: The PC can smell any rotting corpse, 
  undead, carrion, or diseased person within 60 feet, but 
  normally pleasant smells become repulsive. In areas 
  where such smells are concentrated, such as in a flower 
  garden or at a gathering of perfumed ladies and gentle-
  men, the PC must save vs. spell or become nauseated 
  until he leaves the area. Success leaves him uncomfort-
  able and with a –2 to all rolls until he leaves. 
  Stage II: The PC gains immunity to all toxins, but 
  his skin takes on a cold, clammy feel as the body’s 
  living functions slow. Others who touch the PC must 
  make an immediate reaction roll with a –4 penalty. 
  Stage III: The PC gains infravision to a range of 
  60 feet, but he becomes sensitive to bright light, 
  suffering a –2 penality to all rolls in bright areas. 
  Stage IV: The PC gains immunity to all mind-
  affecting spells, but he must eat carrion and refuse. If 
  the PC ever sees a corpse he must save vs. spell or eat 
  his fill. Onlookers may be subject to horror checks. 
  Stage V: The PC gains a necromantic touch. When 
  used, the victim must save vs. wand or lose 1 point of 
  Dexterity each round. The victim is paralyzed when 
  Dexterity reaches 0. Lost points return at a rate of 1 per 
  hour. The PC’s skin becomes chilled and numb. Normal 
  life functions cease, but the dark energies of undeath 
  preserve his body and allow the character to heal 
  normally. The DM should now keep track of the 
  character’s hit points and allow the player to think he 
  has become immune to normal damage. 
  Stage VI: The PC gains the ability to bite for 1d6 
  points of damage, and the victim must save vs. poison 
  or lose 1 Dexterity point each round, as above. Lost 
  points return at a rate of 1 per hour. The PC’s face 
  develops a macabre smile stretching from ear to ear, 
  invoking a horror check for those who see it. 
  Stage VII: The PC gains the paralyzing touch of a 
  ghoul, though it only affects humans. Holy items now 
  horrify the character. He is susceptible to turning, holy 
  water, and the full range of undead weaknesses. 
  Stage VIII: The PC’s ghoul touch now has the 
  capability to affect demihumans and causes contagion 
  in humans (as the 4th-level wizard spell). Over the 
  course of a few weeks, the PC’s muscles and connec-
  tive tissue atrophy and decay, imposing a –4 penalty to 
  Strength and Dexterity. Outwardly, however, the 
  character’s flesh does not rot. 
  Stage IX: The PC becomes immune to weapons of 
  less than +1 enchantment. His brain, however, begins to 
  rot, reducing Intelligence and Wisdom by half. 
  Stage X: The PC becomes a lord of the undead, 
  and can create ghouls and control other undead types as 
  a cleric of equal level. 
  Semi-finalist 
  Track of the Grimlock 
  By James Hardie 
  confiscator@hotmail.com 
  Application: This track is appropriate for charac-
  ters who are violent and barbaric, choosing combat over 
  more peaceful options. 
  Stage I: The PC gains 1 point of Strength but 
  becomes easily irritated, losing 1 point of Charisma. 
  Stage II: The PC gains 1 point of Constitution but 
  becomes more barbaric, losing 1 point of Intelligence. 
  Stage III: The PC gains 1 point of Dexterity but 
  becomes less caring and compassionate, losing 1 point 
  of Wisdom. 
  Stage IV: The PC grows claws which inflict 1d6 
  points damage with a successful attack. He also 
  becomes more aggressive, suffering another –1 penalty 
  to Charisma. 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RUNNING RAVENLOFT 
  23 
  Stage V: The PC gains a +3 bonus to natural 
  Armor Class, but his skin becomes gray and stony, 
  imposing another –2 penalty to Charisma. 
  Stage VI: The PC gains a +3 bonus to THAC0, but 
  he becomes increasingly irrational, losing another 2 
  points of Intelligence. 
  Stage VII: The PC gains an exceptional olfactory 
  sense, and can track creatures by scent. He now suffers 
  double the impact of scent-based attacks (such as 
  stinking cloud) and saves against scent attacks with a –4 
  penalty. 
  Stage VIII: The PC becomes immune to surprise, 
  but becomes blind, suffering only a –2 penalty to attack 
  rolls due to his heightened scent. 
  Stage IX: The PC gains exceptional hearing; he 
  can now “see” in total darkness like a bat, and suffers 
  no penalty to attack rolls in combat. He now takes 1 
  extra point of damage per die from sound-based attacks 
  and saves against such attacks at a –4 penalty. Loud 
  noises “blind” him for 1d6 rounds. 
  Stage X: The PC gains 3 points of Strength, but is 
  now easily enraged; he must save vs. spell in tense 
  situations or fly into a destructive rage for 1d6 rounds. 
  Finalist 
  Track of the Heucuva 
  By Christopher Adams 
  mhacdebhandia@yahoo.com 
  Application: The track of the heucuva would be 
  most apt for the corruption of those PC clerics whose 
  lack of real faith causes them to be disillusioned and 
  bitter, or for those who simply use their faith as a tool 
  to be twisted to their own devious and selfish ends. It 
  would be especially applicable for those priests who 
  mask their true manipulations behind the facade of a 
  kindly spiritual figure. 
  Stage I: The PC gains a +1 bonus to all saving 
  throws against spells mind-affecting spells, but his holy 
  symbol becomes tarnished, tattered, or otherwise worn, 
  defying any attempts to repair the damage. 
  Stage II: The PC’s Strength increases by 1 point, 
  or by 20 percentile points (to a maximum of 18/00), 
  while any healing spells the character casts carry a 
  penalty of –1 to each die (to a minimum of 1 hit point 
  per die healed). 
  Stage III: The PC’s bonus to saving throws against 
  mind-affecting spells increases to +2, while his 
  Charisma suffers a –1 penalty when interacting with 
  other priests of his own faith. 
  Stage IV: The flesh on the PC’s hands and arms 
  becomes thin, pale and translucent, warping his fingers 
  into claws that can inflict 1d4 points of damage. The 
  flesh on the PC’s face and neck also grows transparent, 
  reducing his Charisma by 1 point. 
  Stage V: The PC becomes completely immune to 
  all mind-affecting spells, but the holy symbols of his 
  faith are now capable of repelling the character if he 
  fails a save vs. paralyzation. 
  Stage VI: The PC can now be hit only by weapons 
  of silver or +1 enchantment. Any clothes the PC wears 
  will tatter and fray within a few hours, hanging loose 
  like robes and darkening to brown, gray, or black. 
  Stage VII: Any natural attack the PC makes with 
  his or her finger-claws can infect victims with a disease 
  that drains 1 point of Strength and Constitution per day 
  if they fail their save vs. poison. The PC loses all ability 
  to heal, including that provided by the healing or 
  herbalism proficiencies. 
  Stage VIII: The PC’s finger-claws now inflict 1d6 
  points of damage, but his hands and arms are now 
  wholly skeletal, with only tattered scraps of flesh 
  clinging to them. The PC’s arms must be concealed 
  within gloves and voluminous sleeves if he wishes to 
  avoid discovery. 
  Stage IX: The PC’s natural Armor Class falls to 3 
  as his bones become incredibly durable, but he loses all 
  spellcasting and turning powers and the ability to speak. 
  Stage X: The PC can now be turned as a wight. 
  The PC gains the ability to polymorph self up to three 
  times per day, assuming the form of either his original 
  appearance, that of someone he has recently encoun-
  tered, or a wholly skeletal appearance. Anyone using 
  infravision to view the PC will always see the skeletal 
  form, even when the PC is polymorphed. 
  Semi-finalist 
  Track of the Lich 
  By Jason Karl Wolfe Leisemann 
  jkwleisemann@yahoo.com 
  Application: The track of the lich is applicable 
  mainly to characters who are obsessed with gaining 
  magical power, ideally mages who focus more on their 
  magic than their comrades. Alternatively, spellcasters 
  who seek immortality may find themselves becoming 
  liches, even if they normally couldn’t qualify. 
  Stage I: The PC gains ability to cast one 1st-level 
  wizard spell per day (one extra 1st-level spell slot for 
  mages). His skin begins to dry and wither, reducing 
  Charisma by 1 point. 
  Stage II: The PC can see even in magical dark-
  ness, but his eyes begin to glow red, reducing Charisma 
  by another point. 
  Stage III: The PC develops resistance to cold (–1 
  point of damage per die, minimum 1 point per die), but 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RUNNING RAVENLOFT 
  24 
  his skin looks mummified, imposing another –2 penalty 
  to Charisma. 
  Stage IV: The PC’s Intelligence rises to 18. The 
  PC develops headaches that make him excessively hot-
  headed, reducing Wisdom 1 point. 
  Stage V: The PC causes fear, as per the standard 
  lich ability. The PC cannot control this fear aura, which 
  affects friend and foe alike. 
  Stage VI: The PC’s touch becomes frigid, causing 
  1d10 points of damage on contact. Clerics can now turn 
  the PC as an undead creature of the same number of Hit 
  Dice as the PC has levels. 
  Stage VII: The PC becomes immortal. His most 
  precious treasure becomes his phylactery. Anyone in 
  possession of the phylactery can control the PC. 
  Stage VIII: The PC casts necromantic spells as if 
  he were specialized in their use. Unlike normal liches, 
  the PC loses the ability to cast illusions. 
  Stage IX: The PC can only be hit by weapons of at 
  least +1 enchantment or creatures of at least 6 Hit Dice. 
  Destruction of the PC’s phylactery will utterly destroy 
  the PC, with no resurrection possible. 
  Stage X: The PC gains a magic jar ability, and his 
  soul retreats to his phylactery upon “death.” The PC 
  also gains vulnerability to weapons forged of cold iron. 
  Finalist 
  Track of the Mist Horror 
  By Wes Schneider 
  Dendread@home.com 
  Application: Perhaps the most merciful terror 
  track, the dark powers give those who descend down 
  this path exactly what they want. This track is suitable 
  for any character with an interest in discovering the 
  mysteries of Ravenloft’s Mists, the dark powers, and/or 
  the demiplane itself. Such arcanists and other investi-
  gators of the occult are indoctrinated into perhaps the 
  most secret society in all of Ravenloft, becoming 
  minions of the Mists themselves. 
  Stage I: The PC’s hair turns stark white and his 
  skin grows pale, lessening his Charisma by 1 point. The 
  PC can detect the alignment of anyone who comes 
  within a five-foot radius (within the usual restrictions 
  applicable to Ravenloft). 
  Stage II: The very bonds of the PC’s being begin 
  to break apart, making him amazingly light but causing 
  his Constitution to drop by two points. However, his 
  new physical instability allows him to feather fall from 
  any height if he is unencumbered. 
  Stage III: The magic disrupting mental wave of a 
  mist horror begins to emanate from the PC in a limited 
  sense. Spells cast within a ten-foot radius of the PC 
  have a 20% chance of failing; this affects both 
  beneficial and harmful spells. 
  Stage IV: The PC gains the ability to assume 
  gaseous form for one turn, three times a day, due the 
  continuing breakdown of his corporeal body. As a 
  result, the PC loses another two points of Constitution. 
  Stage V: All color completely flees from the PC’s 
  body, leaving him a blank, pale white. This drops his 
  Charisma by a further 3 points. However, he gains the 
  ability to attack while in gaseous form by solidifying a 
  single tendril of mist that inflicts 1d6 points of damage. 
  Stage VI: Being farther then a mile from the Mists 
  causes the PC great mental pain, forcing him to suffer a 
  –3 penalty to all rolls. The PC can now gain a general 
  impression of what most terrifies anyone within a 
  twenty-foot radius. 
  Stage VII: The PC may now turn invisible by 
  taking gaseous form and dispersing himself to a point 
  so thin as to be completely undetectable. The PC finds 
  that he is unable to heal from wounds or regain hit 
  points unless surrounded by mist (of any sort). 
  Stage VIII: The PC’s magical disruption fully 
  matures so that all spells cast within twenty feet have a 
  50% of failure. 
  Stage IX: The PC’s physical body ceases to be his 
  primary form, and as such he must concentrate to 
  maintain his corporeal form and may do so for only one 
  turn at a time, three times a day. The PC is now 
  immune to all weapons of less than +2 enchantment. 
  Stage X: The PC finds that he is completely unable 
  to leave the Mists in any way and cannot take corporeal 
  form. He may now attack twice a round, doing 2d6 
  points of damage, and can communicate telepathically, 
  sending emotional suggestions. 
  Finalist 
  Track of the Reaver 
  By Wes Schneider 
  Dendread@home.com 
  Application: The depths of Ravenloft hold enough 
  horrors without seafaring peoples adding to them with 
  attempts at piracy and raiding. As such this terror track 
  is designed for any character of a seafaring population 
  or participating in a nautical campaign. As the reaver is 
  a brutal killer, warriors are probably best suited to this 
  track. 
  Stage I: The PC gains increased muscle mass, 
  adding 1 point to his Strength. His skin, however, 
  develops an oily aspect and glistens as if constantly 
  wet, lowering his Charisma by 1 point. 
  Stage II: Water becomes a second home to the PC, 
  and as such he can now move at the same rate in the 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RUNNING RAVENLOFT 
  25 
  water as he does on land. However, the PC now 
  develops a taste for raw flesh. 
  Stage III: The PC’s Strength rises by 2 more 
  points. Unfortunately, primal instincts begin to control 
  the PC’s actions, lowering his Intelligence by 2 points. 
  Stage IV: The PC’s hands and feet develop thick 
  webbing, allowing him to swim at a movement rate of 
  18, but halving his movement rate on land. 
  Stage V: The PC’s skin develops thousands of 
  small scales that effectively lower his natural AC to 4. 
  However, if the scales are not kept moist they chafe the 
  PC, causing a –2 penalty to all rolls if he spends more 
  that two hours out of water. 
  Stage VI: The PC’s face flattens and widens, 
  especially around the mouth, and he grows a second 
  row of teeth, lowering his Charisma by another 2 
  points. This change gives him the ability to attack with 
  a vicious bite, inflicting 2d4 points of damage. 
  Stage VII: The PC’s nails harden and elongate 
  allowing him to make two slashing attacks per round 
  that do 1d6 damage. However, the length of the nails 
  make the use of any other weapon very difficult, 
  inflicting a –4 penalty on all attack rolls. 
  Stage VIII: The PC’s eyes widen to huge black 
  spheres, gills emerge, and his scales grow, taking on a 
  highly noticeable green-black color, dropping his 
  Charisma by 3 points. However, he is now perfectly 
  suited to operate underwater without need for light or 
  air. 
  Stage IX: The PC’s scales become razor sharp so 
  that any physical contact the PC has with another 
  character inflicts 1d3 points of damage to the victim. 
  This damage can be more severe if the PC grapples 
  with or hugs his victim. 
  Stage X: Higher thought and memory fades away 
  so that the PC has, at highest, 7 points of Intelligence. 
  Also, the character’s claws further elongate and harden, 
  raising the damage done by his two attacks to 2d6. At 
  this point a desire to seek out others with similar traits 
  and abilities arises within the PC, and he will most 
  likely seek to find a colony of reavers. 
  Semi-finalist 
  Track of the Red Widow 
  By Wes Schneider 
  Dendread@home.com 
  Application: For at least half of the world’s popu-
  lation one of the fastest and surest forms of persuasion 
  is through the means of seduction. This terror track 
  suits those characters that use their charms and physical 
  assets to achieve their goals, often at the expense of 
  those they feign affection for. Only female characters 
  can become Red Widows. 
  Stage I: The PC’s hair grows longer and turns a 
  shining red, offering +1 to her Charisma, but a small 
  crimson spider tattoo forms somewhere on her body. 
  Stage II: The PC’s muscles grow taut and she 
  gains a flawless complexion, granting her +2 to 
  Charisma, but she becomes nocturnal, suffering a –2 
  modifier to all rolls during the day. 
  Stage III: The PC can summon a swarm of spiders 
  at will, as per the spell summon swarm, cast at her 
  current level. Every week, however, she must ingest 3 
  hit points’ worth of fresh blood. 
  Stage IV: The PC gains a +2 bonus to saves vs. 
  paralyzation and can no longer be restrained by webs of 
  any kind. Many small spiders begin to follow the PC, 
  becoming constant nuisances. 
  Stage V: The PC can now spider climb on any 
  surface, but is compelled to brutally kill anyone she 
  takes to her bed. 
  Stage VI: The PC gains the ability to communicate 
  with all arachnids but must now ingest 14 hit points’ 
  worth of blood a week to survive. 
  Stage VII: The PC can transform into a giant red 
  spider, with only the abilities described above. She also 
  develops the capacity and desire to lay eggs in her 
  deceased lovers while in spider form. 
  Stage VIII: The PC develops a poisonous bite in 
  spider form, and must now ingest 21 hit points’ worth 
  of humanoid blood each week to survive. 
  Stage IX: The PC’s spider form can now spin a 
  silken web (as per the spell) but must fully drain a 
  humanoid of all body fluids once a week in order to 
  survive. 
  Stage X: The PC develops a lair in an urban area 
  and begins seducing men nightly for both food and 
  procreation. 
  Semi-finalist 
  Track of the Sea Spawn Master 
  By Raul Perez  
  theshade_@exite.com 
  Application: This terror track could be applicable 
  to any character who is actively involved with the sea (a 
  fisherman or a sailor), or someone who lives near it. 
  Those who manipulate others to do what they desire, 
  using them as pawns, are the most common type of 
  people to suffer this transformation. 
  Stage I: The PC’s fingers and toes develop thin 
  membranes, granting the swimming proficiency, but 
  base movement rate drops to 9 due to the character’s 
  awkwardness on dry land. 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RUNNING RAVENLOFT 
  26 
  Stage II: The PC’s eyes grow thin membranes, 
  which allow normal sight underwater, but his Charisma 
  drops by 1 point. 
  Stage III: The PC grows claws, which can inflict 
  1d6 points of damage, but his Dexterity and Charisma 
  scores drop by 1 point each. The claws are so sharp 
  they tear through gloves. 
  Stage IV: The PC can communicate via telepathy 
  to those within 30 feet, but his throat can no longer 
  produce sounds. This mutation is slightly visible, and it 
  lowers the character’s Charisma by 1 point. 
  Stage V: The PC’s mouth grows a double set of 
  fangs, which can inflict 1d10 damage in a bite attack. In 
  addition, his victim must make a save vs poison or be 
  infected with a disease which makes natural healing 
  impossible. This change is clearly visible, so the The 
  PC’s Charisma drops another 2 points. 
  Stage VI: The PC’s body produces a loathsome 
  mucous which acts as oil of slipperiness. This prevents 
  him from being held or tied, but he must succeed at a 
  Dexterity check each time he handles an item or drop it. 
  Stage VII: The PC develops gills that allow 
  underwater breathing, but his Charisma drops by 
  another 4 points (but cannot drop below 3). 
  Stage VIII: The PC’s body is covered in scales, 
  which lower his base AC to 5, but his Dexterity and 
  Charisma scores drop by another 2 points each (but 
  cannot drop below 3). 
  Stage IX: The PC can summon aquatic monsters 
  twice per day, but he must now eat raw flesh from a 
  sentient being at least once a week or suffer 1d6 points 
  of damage per day gone without eating. 
  Stage X: The PC gains the ability to create slugs 
  (sea spawn, 1d6 per night), but he will die if he leaves 
  the sea for more than 1d6+10 turns at a time. 
  Semi-finalist 
  Track of the Shadow 
  By Ken Hart 
  khart60@altavista.com 
  Application: The track of the shadow could apply 
  to a wizard (especially a shadow mage or necromancer) 
  who likes to hatch dark schemes. It could also apply to 
  a more combat-oriented mage who prefers violent battle 
  to scholarly research. 
  Stage I: The PC gains infravision to 60 feet 
  (doubled if he already possesses infravision). He shuns 
  intense light or sunlight, finding it unpleasant. 
  Stage II: The PC gains a 90% to Move Silently as 
  per the thief ability. His facial features take on a grayish 
  skin tone, causing a –2 Charisma penalty. 
  Stage III: The PC’s outline begins to shift and 
  waver during combat, as per the blur spell. The PC 
  becomes more prone to senseless violence and anger, 
  imposing a –2 Wisdom penalty. 
  Stage IV: The PC becomes completely resistant to 
  cold-based attacks. However, his own shadow 
  permanently twists into that of a hulking beast. 
  Stage V: The PC gains immunity to sleep, charm, 
  and hold spells. Daylight and intense light are now 
  painful, imposing a –2 penalty to all saving throws 
  when exposed. 
  Stage VI: The PC becomes invisible when in 
  shadow. His face is now constantly draped in shadow; 
  his features become visible only under intense light. 
  Stage VII: The PC can assume Shadowform (as 
  per the psionic ability) once per day for one turn. The 
  forces at work upon him also drive him insane: He 
  becomes schizophrenic, and his alignment shifts to 
  Chaotic Evil under stress. (See Domains of Dread.) 
  Stage VIII: The PC can drain one point of 
  Strength with a successful touch attack. Further, he 
  must drain at least two points of Strength from living 
  creatures each day in order to survive. 
  Stage IX: The PC can only be hit by weapons of 
  +1 or better enchantment, and he can be turned as an 
  undead creature with Hit Dice equal to his level. 
  Stage X: The PC’s mortal form fades into undead 
  shadow. His touch can inflict 1d4+1 points of damage 
  as well as drain Strength, and he is filled with a hatred 
  of all living creatures. 
  Semi-finalist 
  Track of the Werejackal 
  By Ken Hart 
  khart60@altavista.com 
  Application: The track of the werejackal is appli-
  cable to any character (especially one from desert 
  regions such as the Amber Wastes) who shows a 
  tendency toward cowardice and cruelty. The track 
  would also be appropriate for someone who envies the 
  adoration shown toward stronger, more popular people. 
  Stage I: The PC can extend his fingernails into 
  sharp, black claws at will. The PC can attack twice per 
  round with his claws, inflicting 1–3 points of damage 
  each. The PC also becomes more agile (+1 Dexterity). 
  However, he now snarls like an animal when insulted or 
  provoked, and his eyes are consistently bloodshot (–1 
  Charisma). 
  Stage II: The PC can extend his canine teeth into 
  fangs at will, inflicting 1d4 points of damage with a 
  successful attack, and his manner becomes more calcu-
  lating and cautious, granting +1 to Intelligence. He 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RUNNING RAVENLOFT 
  27 
  always has a sinister leer on his face, and thick, brown 
  hairs grow on his ears, imposing another –1 penalty to 
  Charisma. 
  Stage III: The PC becomes far cleverer, his 
  Wisdom increasing to 18, yet his personality turns 
  cruel. His fingernails become permanently black and 
  sharp, even when not extended into claws. 
  Stage IV: The PC can cast sticks to snakes and 
  snake charm once per day as an innate ability, as per a 
  6th-level cleric. The PC’s mouth and jaw elongate 
  slightly, creating a snout-like appearance, and causing 
  him to lose another 2 points of Charisma. 
  Stage V: The PC can cast cause disease once per 
  day as an innate ability, as per a 6th-level cleric. He 
  must eat decaying meat at least once per day. 
  Stage VI: The PC can control undead as though he 
  were a 6th-level cleric. (If the character is already a 
  priest with this ability, he can command as though one 
  level higher.) He must also cause someone extreme 
  pain each day; failure to do so makes the character 
  timid and fearful (–2 penalty on all saves, proficiencies, 
  and fear checks for 24 hours). 
  Stage VII: The PC can only be hit by magical 
  weapons of +1 or better enchantment, although he is 
  still vulnerable to nonmagical bronze weapons. 
  Stage VIII: The PC can cast clerical spells as a 
  cleric of half his level. (If the character is already a 
  cleric, he receives a specialist mage’s bonus to all spells 
  of the Necromancy sphere.) He is also compelled to 
  worship the god Anubis, and he is restricted from 
  casting spells of the Sun sphere. 
  Stage IX: The PC can now shapechange at will 
  into his hybrid werejackal form (with resulting changes 
  to Armor Class, attack modes, etc.), but he becomes 
  more fearful (–2 penalty to all fear checks). 
  Stage X: The PC’s human form loses the physical 
  punishments of the earlier stages (although the blood-
  shot eyes and the reductions to Charisma remain), and 
  he can create followers by infecting others with his 
  lycanthropy. Indeed, the character now feels compelled 
  to find followers to spread the cult of Anubis. In 
  combat, a morale check is required each round if the 
  character faces a superior force. 
  Semi-finalist 
  Track of the Wererat 
  By Mark Branson 
  stormcrow@ou.edu 
  Application: This track is applicable to any 
  character who is particularly greedy or secretive. 
  Thieves often follow this track. 
  Stage I: The PC gains the ability to Pick Locks as 
  a 1st-level thief (add any appropriate racial and 
  Dexterity modifiers), but his eyes become beady and 
  his nose narrows, reducing Charisma by 1 point. 
  Stage II: The PC gains 18/51 Strength, but 
  becomes violently allergic to the smell of fresh flowers; 
  rose petals in any form become poisonous to him. 
  Stage III: The PC gains the ability to command 
  rats (any number, simple commands only), but he can 
  no longer gain any sustenance from anything other than 
  raw meat. 
  Stage IV: The PC’s Dexterity becomes 19, and 
  silver weapons now inflict double damage against him. 
  Stage V: The PC gains the ability to summon rats; 
  a constant retinue of 1d6 mice or rats now follows the 
  character, even when unwanted. These vermin impose a 
  –6 reaction adjustment when dealing with most people. 
  Stage VI: The PC gains the ability to Pick Pockets 
  and Climb Walls as a 1st level thief (again, Dexterity 
  and racial modifiers apply), but becomes fascinated by 
  any item of great value. The PC must make a saving 
  throw vs. spell or be captivated by the item for 1d6 
  rounds, often trying to buy or steal it. 
  Stage VII: The PC gains the ability to transform 
  into a giant rat at will, healing 10–60% of current 
  damage, but feels an uncontrollable urge to construct a 
  hidden lair within the sewers of a major city. 
  Stage VIII: The PC can only be hit by weapons of 
  silver or +1 or better enchantment, but is now stricken 
  with severe agoraphobia, leading him to avoid any large 
  open spaces. The PC will still frequent these areas if 
  they are filled with crowds of people, though uncom-
  fortably at best. 
  Stage IX: The PC gains the ability to transform 
  into a half-rat, half-human hybrid at will, healing 10–
  60% of current damage, but now transforms into this 
  form when exposed to a certain trigger (i.e. the full 
  moon or the presence of a loved one). When trans-
  formed by the trigger, the creature immediately enters 
  bloodlust (a berserk rage imposing +2 to attacks, +2 to 
  damage, and –2 to AC). 
  Stage X: The PC gains the ability to infect his 
  victims with lycanthropy, with a 2% chance per hit 
  point of damage done. This includes damage done by 
  the PC weapon attacks. A strong smell of sewage now 
  follows the PC everywhere, dropping Charisma another 
  3 points, and causing nausea in those that fail a saving 
  throw vs. spell. 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RUNNING RAVENLOFT 
  28 
  Semi-finalist 
  Track of the Wraith 
  By Wes Schneider 
  Dendread@home.com 
  Application: This track is suited for the power-
  hungry character: he who holds his own ambitions over 
  the well being of others. As the character’s quest for 
  power is manifested in this change, he becomes a 
  creature that feeds off the very lives of others. Any 
  purely sadistic, immoral, or downright evil character of 
  strong personality could also be suited to this track. 
  Stage I: The PC gains the ability to see in the 
  complete darkness, but his eyes take one a reddish tint, 
  glowing in the dark, lowering his Charisma by 1 point. 
  Stage II: The PC’s skin turns a flat coal black, 
  lowering Charisma by 2 points, but giving him a +20% 
  bonus to attempts to Hide in Shadows. 
  Stage III: The PC’s touch is deathly cold and 
  inflicts 1d6 damage with a successful attack. Animals 
  refuse to come near the PC. 
  Stage IV: The PC becomes immune to all poisons 
  and paralyzing attacks but is also now unable to benefit 
  from clerical healing. 
  Stage V: The PC now regenerates lost hit points at 
  a rate of one per eight hours, but the character develops 
  an intense sensitivity to sunlight, suffering a –2 penalty 
  to all rolls made while exposed. 
  Stage VI: The PC gains all undead immunities to 
  spells, but holy water and symbols now cause 2d4 
  points of damage. 
  Stage VII: The PC gains the ability to take on 
  wraithform three times a day, but is now affected by 
  spells that only affect the undead. 
  Stage VIII: The PC becomes permanently incor-
  poreal and is vulnerable only to silver or +1 or better 
  magical weapons. The spell raise dead can kill him. 
  Stage IX: The PC now drains one XP level with 
  his touch and can be turned as a wraith. 
  Stage X: The PC becomes an undead sprit with an 
  intense hatred for all life. Victims killed by the PC’s 
  energy drain rise up as new wraiths loyal to the PC. 
  Semi-finalist 
  Track of the Zombie Lord 
  By Grant D. Penrod 
  GDPENROD@AOL.COM 
  Application: The track of the zombie lord could 
  apply to a PC who pursues pleasure and riches not only 
  at the expense of others but also without regard to him-
  self. Eventually he gains the power to take all he wants 
  but loses the ability to enjoy it. Once he treated himself 
  and those around him like pieces of meat—and that’s 
  exactly what they’ll become. 
  Stage I: The PC gains the ability to see in 
  darkness, but his eyes appear clouded, like the eyes of a 
  corpse. 
  Stage II: The PC gains a telepathic link with any 
  undead within a 20-foot radius, and his features become 
  drawn and gaunt, imposing a –1 Charisma penalty. 
  Stage III: The PC is able to control zombies within 
  a 20-foot radius, but his skin becomes gray and lifeless, 
  imposing an additional –2 Charisma penalty. 
  Stage IV: The PC can create zombies from 
  humanoid corpses (once per day) but is no longer able 
  to benefit from healing magic or potions. 
  Stage V: The PC can speak with dead (as the spell) 
  by touch three times per day, but emits a strong odor of 
  rot and decay. Unless heavily perfumed, the stench 
  causes retching and nausea. 
  Stage VI: The PC can use the senses of zombies 
  under his control within a one-mile radius, but is 
  surrounded by swarms of flies and carrion insects, 
  making it now totally impossible to pass unnoticed 
  among the living. 
  Stage VII: The PC gains incredible strength and 
  resilience (unarmed melee attacks do 2d4 damage and 
  natural AC is 6) but he can now be turned as a vampire. 
  Stage VIII: The PC is now immune to sleep, 
  charm and hold spells but is burned by holy water or 
  contact with a holy symbol. 
  Stage IX: The PC’s odor is now so strong as to 
  require anyone within a 90-foot radius to make a save 
  vs. poison. Those who fail roll 1d6 to determine the 
  effect: 1: weakness (as spell), 2: cause disease (as 
  spell), 3: –1 to Constitution, 4: contagion (as spell), 5: 
  unable to act for 1d4 rounds due to nausea, 6: victim 
  dies and animates as a zombie 
  By this point, the PC’s flesh is so rotten that his 
  Charisma drops to 0. 
  Stage X: The PC gains his most terrible power, the 
  ability to cast animate dead once per day on a living 
  victim of fewer hit dice than the PC (save vs death 
  magic to negate). In addition, he must now consume 
  rotting flesh to survive. 
  ! 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RUNNING RAVENLOFT 
  29 
  FEAR AND LOATHING IN 
  THIRD EDITION 
  New Rules for Fear, Horror, and Madness 
  by John W. Mangrum 
  iggy@kargatane.com 
   
  OVERVIEW 
  he following system is an update for the 
  rules for fear, horror, and madness checks 
  found in Chapter Six of Domains of Dread, 
  written by William W. Connors and Steve 
  Miller, and utilizes rules found in the Dungeon 
  Master’s Guide and the Monster Manual. Terms 
  sufficiently detailed in those sources have not been 
  repeated here. 
  In DUNGEONS & DRAGONS, Fear, Horror, and 
  Madness checks are considered Will saves in all 
  respects. In fact, the terms “Fear check,” “Horror 
  check,” and “Madness check” are just shorthand to 
  differentiate between the different causes and effects of 
  these three Will saves. Anything that modifies a Will 
  save likewise modifies Fear, Horror, and Madness 
  checks. 
  Fear, Horror, and Madness checks all use the same 
  basic mechanic. When the situation calls for a character 
  make any of the three types of check, make a Will save 
  against a specified DC. Specific DCs depend on the 
  situation and type of check being made, and are 
  provided in the following sections. 
  If the character succeeds at the Will save, then 
  there is no effect (the character is not frightened, 
  horrified, etc.), and she is immune to that specific 
  source of fear, horror, or madness (depending on the 
  successful check) for one day. 
  If the character fails the Will save, then the result is 
  determined by how much she failed the saving throw. 
  Subtract the number rolled (including modifiers) from 
  the DC; this result determines whether the character 
  suffers a minor, moderate, or major effect. 
  Failure Margin 
  Effect 
  1–5 points 
  Minor 
  6–10 points 
  Moderate 
  11–15 points 
  Major 
  16+ points 
  Major, plus additional effect 
  (see below for specifics). 
  When determining the results of failed Horror and 
  Madness checks, the player will also need to roll 1d4 to 
  select a specific effect. 
  Characters cannot take 10 or take 20 on Fear, 
  Horror, or Madness checks. They can take 10 on any 
  attempts to recover from failed checks, however. 
  Creatures without Intelligence scores are immune 
  to fear, horror, and madness. 
  Lastly, remember that Fear, Horror, and Madness 
  checks are always optional. If players roleplay the 
  terror of their PCs without prompting, no check is 
  needed. 
  FEAR CHECKS 
   character should make a Fear check when 
  facing overwhelming odds and/or 
  immediate, dire physical danger. Fear 
  checks can also be used to test the morale of 
  the PCs’ foes. Some common fear triggers are: 
  # The party is badly outnumbered or outclassed by 
  monsters. (The EL is 4+ higher than the party 
  level.) 
  # The most powerful character in the party or half of 
  the party’s members are killed. 
  # A menacing monster is immune to the party’s 
  weapons and spells. 
  T 
  A 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RUNNING RAVENLOFT 
  30 
  # A menacing monster is at least two size categories 
  larger than the biggest member of the party. 
  # A menacing monster has the Fearsome Presence 
  special quality. 
  # The character is threatened by immediate death and 
  seems to be helpless. (A character trapped 
  underwater; a character who looks up to see a 
  massive deadfall trap hurtling towards her.) 
  Remember that appearances are everything; if 
  characters don’t know that they’re in dire peril, then 
  they have no reason to make a Fear check. Likewise, if 
  the players think their PCs are doomed, even if they 
  aren’t, a Fear check may be warranted. 
  Determining DC 
  When a Fear check is prompted by a menacing creature, 
  the DC is equal to 8 + ½ the creature’s HD + the 
  creature’s Charisma modifier. (If the threat has the 
  Fearsome Presence special quality, add 10 instead of 8.) 
  If the DM is in a rush or doesn’t want to bother with the 
  math, she can just set the DC to the menacing creature’s 
  CR + 8, which will net a roughly similar target. 
  When a Fear check is prompted by multiple 
  creatures or a menacing situation, the DC is equal to the 
  obstacle’s EL + 8. This requires some judgment calls 
  on the part of the DM; while a simple pit trap won’t 
  send anyone into a wild panic no matter how wide it is, 
  having sliding walls slowly push the PCs into a pit 
  filled with whirling, gnashing blades might. 
  Situational modifiers often factor into Fear checks. 
  All situational modifiers apply to the die roll and stack 
  with each other. 
  Fear Check Modifiers 
  +4 Character or party possesses a weapon, form of 
  magic, or bit of lore which has been proven to be 
  useful against the threat. 
  +2 Character or party possesses a weapon, form of 
  magic, or bit of lore which is believed to be useful 
  against the threat. 
  +4 A loved one is endangered. 
  +2 A friend or ally is endangered. 
  +1 An innocent is endangered. 
  +1 Character defeated a similar threat in the past. 
  +1 Character is in close quarters (no place to run). 
  –2 Character has faced and been defeated by a similar 
  threat within the past 24 hours. 
  –1 Character has faced and been defeated by a similar 
  threat in the past (but not within the past day). 
  –1 Character is alone. 
  –1 Character has lost more than half of his or her 
  maximum hit points. 
  Failure Results 
  If the character rolls below the DC by a margin of 1–5 
  points, she is Shaken. If the character misses the DC by 
  6–10 points, she is Frightened. If the character misses 
  the DC by 11–15 points, she is Panicked. (See Chapter 
  Three of the Dungeon Master’s Guide for further 
  explanation of these terms.) If the character fails the 
  Fear check by 16+ points, she is Panicked and must 
  make an immediate Horror check at (failed Fear check 
  DC – 5). 
  Additional Failures 
  Fear effects are cumulative, as detailed in Chapter 
  Three of the Dungeon Master’s Guide. 
  Recovering from Failure 
  Fear effects have a duration of 5d6 rounds, after which 
  time the character returns to normal. If the character 
  fails additional Fear checks while suffering Fear effects, 
  add the durations together. Numerous spells and 
  magical effects (such as modify memory or remove fear) 
  can also remove all Fear effects. 
  HORROR CHECKS 
  hoosing exactly when to make a Horror 
  check can be a delicate affair; see Domains 
  of Dread for guidelines. As a rule of thumb, 
  make a Horror check when a character 
  witnesses scenes of terrible cruelty or betrayal, or 
  beholds events which simply should not be. 
  Examples: Seeing someone burned at the stake; 
  watching a friend transform into a werebeast; realizing 
  that you murdered someone while possessed by an evil 
  spirit. 
  Determining DC 
  Horror checks are typically prompted by unusual, 
  unique situations rather than creatures, so unlike Fear 
  checks there’s no quick formula to determine the DC. 
  Instead, the DM should use her best judgment to apply 
  a DC to the scene. As a rule, the more gruesome, 
  abnormal, and/or insane the scene, the higher the DC 
  should be. A few examples follow: 
  C 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RUNNING RAVENLOFT 
  31 
  DC Horrific Scene 
  5 
  Signs of violence (a drying pool of blood, a 
  splintered door, etc.). 
  8 
  Finding a decaying body. 
  10 
  Witnessing a scene of pain or suffering (a 
  beggar ravaged by disease). 
  12 
  Finding a freshly slain corpse. 
  15 
  Witnessing a scene of terrible agony (torture, 
  involuntary transformation). 
  20 
  Witnessing a scene of evil, cruelty, and 
  madness (finding dismembered bodies that 
  have been turned into marionettes). 
  25 
  Malign paradigm shift (see below). 
  A “malign paradigm shift” is a situation where a 
  character discovers that an important element of their 
  surroundings is not only drastically “wrong,” it has 
  been so all along, unbeknownst to the character. 
  Examples include PCs realizing that they are the 
  only people in a crowded inn who aren’t evil 
  shapeshifters, or discovering that the carriers of a 
  plague epidemic are actually all the victims of rampant 
  vampiric feeding—and are all still under the vampires’ 
  control. 
  Situational modifiers often factor into Horror 
  checks. All situational modifiers apply to the die roll 
  and stack with each other. 
  Horror Check Modifiers 
  +4 A loved one is clearly endangered by the threat. 
  +4 The victim of the threat is a despised foe. 
  +2 A friend or ally is clearly endangered by the threat. 
  +2 The victim of the threat is a foe. 
  +1 An innocent is clearly endangered by the threat. 
  –1 An innocent is participating in the scene (but not 
  threatened). 
  –2 A friend or ally is participating in the scene (but 
  not threatened). 
  –4 A loved one is participating in the scene (but not 
  threatened). 
  –4 Character is inadvertently responsible for the 
  scene. 
  –1 Character is of good alignment. 
  +1 Character is of evil alignment. 
  –1 Character is in close quarters (no place to run). 
  +1 Character is in an open area (room to run away). 
  +2 Character has been warned about what he or she’s 
  about to see. 
  +1 Character has overcome or endured a similar event 
  in the past. 
  –2 Character has failed a Horror check prompted by a 
  similar scene within the past 24 hours. 
  –1 Character has failed a Horror check prompted by a 
  similar scene in the past (but not within the past 24 
  hours). 
  –1 Character is alone. 
  –1 Character has lost more than half of his or her 
  maximum hit points. 
  The DM will have to make judgment calls when 
  applying some of these modifiers. For example, if a 
  villager suddenly grabs a PC’s betrothed and starts to 
  transform into a werewolf, the DM should apply a +4 
  bonus to the PC’s roll (loved one threatened). On the 
  other hand, if the PC’s betrothed suddenly starts to 
  involuntarily transform into a werewolf, the DM may 
  apply a –4 penalty (loved one involved) instead. 
  Characters typically do not need to make Horror 
  checks when witnessing the aftereffects of their own 
  intentional actions. As an example, if PCs defeat a band 
  of goblins in battle, they do not need to make Horror 
  checks when examining the slain bodies. The same is 
  true for monsters with their victims. 
  Failure Results 
  If a character fails a Horror check by a margin of 1–5 
  points, she suffers a minor effect. If a character misses 
  the DC by 6–10 points, she suffers a moderate effect. If 
  a character misses the DC by 11–15 points, she suffers 
  a major effect. If a character fail a Horror check by 16+ 
  points, she suffers a major effect and must make an 
  immediate Madness check at (Horror check DC – 5). 
  Once the effect category is determined, the player 
  should roll 1d4 to select a specific symptom of Horror. 
  Player Tips: You can speed up Horror checks by 
  rolling the d20 and the d4 at the same time. (If you 
  succeed at the Horror check, you can just ignore the d4 
  roll.) Alternatively, if you and the DM both agree that a 
  specific Horror effect in the category you rolled is 
  particularly suited to the scene, you can ignore the d4 
  roll and simply select that effect. 
  DM Tip: When a character fails a Horror check, 
  you should make a note of the cause of the failed check, 
  the failed check’s DC, and the date in your campaign’s 
  calendar. (A sample note might read: “Rotting body, 
  Oct. 31, DC 8.”) Horror checks have long-term results, 
  and this information will come in handy later. 
  Minor Horror Effects 
  1d4 Effect  
   
  1d4 Effect 
  1 
  Aversion 
   
  3 
  Frozen 
  2 
  Fearstruck 
   
  4 
  Nausea 
  Moderate Horror Effects 
  1d4 Effect  
   
  1d4 Effect 
  1 
  Nightmares  
  3 
  Rage 
  2 
  Obsession 
   
  4 
  Revulsion 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RUNNING RAVENLOFT 
  32 
  Major Horror Effects 
  1d4 Effect  
   
  1d4 Effect 
  1 
  Fascination  
  3 
  Mental Shock 
  2 
  Haunted  
   
  4 
  System Shock 
  Aversion 
  The character is Frightened. Although the Fear effect 
  only has a duration of 5d6 rounds, for as long as the 
  character suffers from this Horror effect she is 
  automatically Shaken whenever she comes within 50 
  feet of the location where she failed this Horror check 
  or any identical places. 
  Fearstruck 
  The character is Panicked. This Fear effect has a 
  duration of 5d6 rounds, but the character suffers no 
  further effects. 
  Frozen 
  The character is momentarily overwhelmed by the 
  scene before her, and can take no action for 3 rounds. 
  She also loses any Dexterity bonus to AC for the 
  duration. 
  Nausea 
  The sight causes the character to become physically ill. 
  She suffers an effective decrease of 1d4+1 points of 
  Constitution. For an equal number of rounds, she 
  cannot cast spells and can only take partial actions as 
  she struggles to retain her last meal. The character 
  regains these lost Constitution points at the rate of 1 per 
  hour. 
  Nightmares 
  For the moment, the character is merely Shaken. This 
  Fear effect has a duration of 5d6 rounds. However, the 
  next time the character tries to go to sleep, the horrific 
  events of this scene will begin to play themselves out 
  again, causing the character to wake with a scream after 
  only 5d6 minutes. The nightmares return every time she 
  tries to sleep, preventing rest. For as long as this Horror 
  effect lasts, the character cannot regain arcane spells, 
  and each full day without rest incurs a cumulative –1 
  penalty to all attack rolls, saving throws, ability checks, 
  and skill checks, to a –4 maximum penalty. 
  Lack of sleep also wears down the character’s 
  health. Without rest, she cannot regain hit points 
  through natural healing. 
  The sleep spell can grant dreamless rest, allowing 
  the character to regain spells and negate accumulated 
  penalties. If the character does not receive a sleep spell 
  every night, however, the nightmares begin again. 
  Elves neither truly sleep nor dream, and thus are 
  immune to this effect; they should reroll the d4 or 
  choose another moderate effect instead. 
  Obsession 
  The character is unable to shake this horrific memory. 
  She continually replays the events in her mind, 
  mumbles about them under her breath, and tries to bring 
  all conversations back to this terrible topic. 
  Her obsessed mind becomes clouded, and she 
  seldom sleeps. With each day of restless obsession, she 
  suffers a cumulative –1 penalty to initiative and to 
  Search, Spot, and Listen checks, to a maximum penalty 
  of –4. 
  The character ignores her health while obsessed. 
  She cannot regain hit points through natural healing, 
  and each full week without rest also inflicts 1 point of 
  effective Constitution decrease. Once the character 
  recovers from Obsession, lost Constitution points return 
  at the rate of 1 per day. (See Recovering from Failure, 
  below.) 
  Rage 
  The character’s mind reverts to a primitive, mindless 
  fury, directed towards the source of horror. She must 
  drop anything in her hands that is not a weapon, then 
  rush forward to attack the object of her hatred in melee. 
  This blind fury acts as a barbarian’s rage ability, with 
  the following exceptions: 
  Unlike a barbarian, the character is not in control 
  of her actions. She cannot retreat from battle and will 
  not stop attacking the subject of her rage even if it is 
  destroyed. She must also move towards the subject in 
  the shortest distance possible, even if this means 
  passing through threatened areas. If anyone—even an 
  ally—tries to block her path and she cannot move 
  around them, the character must fight her way through 
  them. 
  The rage lasts a number of rounds equal to 3 + the 
  character’s (heightened) Constitution modifier. When 
  the rage ends, the character comes to her senses 
  (regaining control of her actions), but she is fatigued (as 
  detailed under the Barbarian in the Player’s Handbook). 
  Revulsion 
  As with Aversion, except that the character is Shaken if 
  exposed to anything that merely reminds her of the 
  horror scene. 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RUNNING RAVENLOFT 
  33 
  Fascination 
  This “Renfield effect” remains largely unchanged from 
  Domains of Dread. Don’t make a Madness check if 
  either Wisdom or Charisma drops below 3, however. 
  Instead, the character becomes a Lost One (see 
  Additional Failures for Madness Checks). 
  Haunted 
  Witnessing the horrific scene shatters the character’s 
  ability to see any good in the world. She suffers the 
  Obsession effect, and in addition suffers an effective 
  decrease of 1d6 points of Charisma as her spirit 
  becomes hardened and withdrawn. Once the character 
  recovers from the Haunted effect, these lost Charisma 
  points return at the rate of 1 per day. (See Recovering 
  from Failure, below.) 
  Mental Shock 
  The character’s mind simply shuts down, unable to 
  comprehend what it is witnessing. While suffering from 
  mental shock, the character loses any Dexterity bonus 
  to AC and can take no actions. She will walk if dragged 
  along, but cannot run. 
  Mental shock has a duration of three rounds. At the 
  end of that duration, the character must make another 
  Horror check at the same DC to escape the effects. If 
  she fails, she can keep retrying the save once every 
  three rounds until she succeeds. If the horrific scene is 
  no longer present, the character gains a cumulative +1 
  morale bonus to each retry until she succeeds. 
  System Shock 
  The shock proves to be too much for the character’s 
  heart; she must make an immediate Fortitude save 
  against the same DC or suffer 3d6 points of 
  Constitution damage. Lost Constitution points return at 
  the rate of 1 per day. 
  Additional Failures 
  Some Horror effects (such as Rage or Mental Shock) 
  have outburst durations that can be measured in rounds, 
  but all Horror effects actually linger for days. (See 
  “Recovering from Failure” for long-term durations.) 
  A character can only carry a single Horror effect at 
  a time. If an additional failed Horror check indicates a 
  result of equal or lesser severity, use another outburst of 
  the existing effect. If a failed Horror check indicates a 
  result of greater severity, remove the existing effect and 
  default to the greater one instead. Horror effects do not 
  stack. 
  Examples: A character fails a Horror check, 
  resulting in Rage (a moderate effect with a duration of 
  two weeks). During these two weeks, any additional 
  failed Horror checks indicating a minor or moderate 
  effect automatically default to another bout of Rage. If 
  the character fails a Horror check indicating a major 
  result, then determine it normally. (In this case, a d4 
  roll comes up with Haunted.) The Rage effect is then 
  removed, and Haunted becomes the new default. 
  Horror effect durations superimpose; the duration 
  is measured from the time of the latest failed Horror 
  check. 
  Recovering from Failure 
  Minor Horror effects have a duration of one week. 
  Moderate effects have a duration of two weeks. Major 
  effects have a duration of 30 days. At the end of this 
  period, the character rolls another Horror check. Use 
  the DC of the original Horror check with a –2 modifier, 
  since time and distance heals all wounds. If the 
  character succeeds at this check, the Horror effect is 
  removed. If she fails, the Horror effect persists for 
  another duration period (another 7 days for a Minor 
  effect, for example). A character can retry failed 
  attempts to recover from Horror each time she reaches 
  the end of a duration period. The –2 DC modifier is 
  cumulative with each attempt. 
  Example: A character making a Horror Check at 
  DC 18 rolls a 14, including modifiers: a failure. Since 
  the character failed by four points (18 – 14 = 4), this 
  results in a minor effect. After one week, the character 
  can make another Horror check at DC 16 (DC 18 –2) to 
  shake off the effects. If the character fails this check, 
  she can try again in another week at DC 14 (DC 18 –4), 
  and so on, until the character succeeds. 
  Numerous spells and magical effects (such as 
  modify memory or remove fear) can also remove all 
  horror effects. 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RUNNING RAVENLOFT 
  34 
  MADNESS CHECKS 
  ailed Madness checks can cripple a 
  character; fortunately, they’re also the rarest 
  type of effect. Make a Madness check in the 
  following three situations: 
  # The character makes mental contact (using spells, 
  special abilities, etc.) with any domain lord, 
  aberration, elemental, ooze, outsider, plant, or an 
  insane mind (a character suffering from any 
  Madness effect). Druids and clerics with the Plant 
  domain need not make Madness checks when 
  contacting plants. 
  # The character is the victim of “gaslighting,” a 
  purposeful attempt by another party to drive her 
  insane. 
  # The character suffers a total catastrophe. This can 
  include witnessing the brutal destruction of the rest 
  of the party, leaving the character to face the threat 
  alone; a paladin being stripped of her powers for 
  her misdeeds; suffering an involuntary alignment 
  change; being subjected to a horrific physical 
  transformation (such as being turned into a broken 
  one). 
  Determining DC 
  A Madness check’s DC is determined on a case-by-case 
  basis. 
  Mental Contact 
  If a Madness check is prompted by contact with an 
  alien mind, the DC is (10+ ½ contacted creature’s HD + 
  contacted creature’s Wisdom modifier). 
  Gaslighting 
  Gaslighting comes in two varieties. If an opponent tries 
  to drive a character mad with a spell or other magical 
  effect (such as bestow curse or wish), then default to the 
  saving throw indicated by that spell (typically a Will 
  save). This saving throw stands in for the Madness 
  check. 
  One character can also gaslight another through 
  nonmagical means. To do this, the perpetrator must 
  gain the victim’s trust and remain in close proximity to 
  the victim for 30 days, using that time to slowly 
  convince the victim that her sanity is slipping away. 
  At the end of the 30 days, the perpetrator and the 
  victim must make opposed Will saves. If the victim 
  fails this opposed save, she has been driven mad; as 
  with other Madness checks, the degree of failure 
  determines the result. (Subtract the victim’s Will save 
  result from the perpetrator’s.) If the victim succeeds at 
  the opposed Will save, she is unaffected. If she 
  succeeds by a margin of 10 points, she immediately 
  becomes aware of the perpetrator’s failed gaslighting 
  attempt. If the perpetrator is not detected, he can try 
  again (with each retry taking another 30 days). 
  Total Catastrophe 
  Lastly, Madness checks prompted by “personal 
  catastrophes” can be thought of as a particularly 
  shattering form of Horror check. The DM should use 
  the recommended DCs and modifiers listed under 
  Horror checks, though this will often require the DM to 
  make a judgment call. 
  Failure Results 
  Failed Madness checks can quickly hinder or cripple a 
  character. In addition to the effects listed below, all 
  failed Madness checks cause effective ability decreases 
  to Intelligence, Wisdom, and Charisma. (Roll 
  separately for each ability score). 
  If a character fails a Madness check by a margin of 
  1–5 points, she suffers a temporary decrease of 1d6 
  points per ability. In addition, the player should roll 1d4 
  to determine a minor Madness effect. The character 
  regains one point in each ability score per hour. 
  If a character fails a Madness check by a margin of 
  6–10 points, she still suffers an effective decrease of 
  1d6 points per ability, but these points cannot be 
  regained without effort. (See Recovering from Failure, 
  below.) The player must also roll 1d4 to select a 
  moderate Madness effect. 
  If a character fails a Madness check by a margin of 
  11–15 points, she suffers an effective decrease of 1d10 
  points per ability. These points cannot be regained 
  without effort. (See Recovering from Failure, below.) 
  The player must also roll 1d4 to determine a Major 
  Madness effect. 
  If a character fails a Madness check by 16+ points, 
  her mind is shattered. Unable to function, she 
  immediately drops to –1 hit points (and is dying). If she 
  survives this shock to the system, she suffers an 
  effective ability decrease of 1d12 points per ability and 
  must roll 1d4 to select a major Madness effect. 
  Minor Madness Effects 
  1d4 Effect  
   
   
  1d4 Effect 
  1 
  Blackout 
   
   
  3 
  Horrified 
  2 
  Denial  
   
   
  4 
  Unhinged 
  F 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RUNNING RAVENLOFT 
  35 
  Moderate Madness Effects 
  1d4 Effect  
   
   
  1d4 Effect 
  1 
  Delusions 
   
   
  3 
  Hallucinations 
  2 
  Depression  
   
  4 
  Paranoia 
  Major Madness Effects 
  1d4 Effect  
   
   
   
  1d4 Effect 
  1 
  Amnesia  
   
   
   
  3 
  Schizophrenia 
  2 
  Multiple Personalities  
  4 
  Suicidal Thoughts 
  All Madness effects described below are in 
  addition to the effective ability decreases detailed 
  above. As a note, minor Madness effects tend to be 
  forgiving, and pass within a few hours. Moderate 
  effects can be troubling, but typically PCs can continue 
  to function. Characters suffering from major Madness 
  effects often pose a danger to themselves and to others, 
  and require close supervision. 
  Blackout 
  The character is merely Shaken at first. However, she 
  will not recall anything in the time period between (and 
  including) the scene that prompted the Madness check 
  and when she regains the last of her decreased ability 
  scores. (Thus, she’ll remember nothing from a period of 
  1–6 hours.) 
  If the character is alone, the DM may simply cut to 
  when she “comes to,” wandering and alone, with no 
  memory of how she came to be in her current location. 
  Some spells, such as modify memory, can restore lost 
  memories. 
  Denial 
  The character’s mind refuses to accept the existence of 
  the threat that prompted the Madness check. Until she 
  regains all decreased ability scores, she acts as if this 
  threat simply does not exist. This provides the character 
  with an effective +4 bonus to any Will saves against 
  that threat’s attacks, but otherwise offers no protection. 
  When all ability scores are regained, the character once 
  again acknowledges the existence of the threat (but 
  loses the Will save bonus). 
  Horrified 
  The character suffers a moderate Horror effect 
  (determined randomly). This Horror effect’s duration 
  lasts only until the character regain all decreased ability 
  scores, rather than the usual two weeks. 
  Unhinged 
  The portion of the character’s mind that should have 
  gone mad simply shuts down instead. This leaves the 
  character able to function but affects her personality. 
  She receives an effective +2 morale bonus to all Fear 
  and Horror checks, but her alignment changes (roll 1d8 
  to randomly select a new alignment, omitting the 
  character’s original alignment from the options). A 
  Sense Motive check at DC 25 can reveal that the 
  Unhinged character is “not quite herself” (assuming this 
  isn’t obvious). The character regains her normal 
  alignment (but loses the morale bonus) when all 
  decreased ability scores are restored. 
  Delusions 
  The character believes something about herself which is 
  simply not true. The nature of this delusion is usually 
  tied into the event that provoked the Madness check. 
  Examples include: a character who believes she has 
  endless wealth (paying for services with pebbles she 
  insists are rubies); believing she transforms into a wolf 
  under the light of the full moon (and insisting she must 
  be caged); believing that she is a specific NPC (“I’m 
  Ivana Boritsi! Bow before me!”). The character can 
  only perform actions if she can rationalize them within 
  the context of her delusion. For example, a character 
  who believes she is actually a vampire would not be 
  willing to expose herself to sunlight. 
  If a character ever performs an action that should 
  be “impossible” within the context of her delusion (in 
  other words, the player cannot immediately provide a 
  rationalized explanation for the action), the character 
  must make an immediate Horror check at DC 15. 
  Depression 
  The character is overcome by a deep melancholy, 
  sapping away her will to live and her interest in the 
  world around her. Such a character just wants to be left 
  alone; she will not suggest ideas, give commands, or 
  otherwise “lead” other characters. In fact, in any given 
  situation, the character must make a Will save at the 
  same DC as the failed Madness check to take any action 
  whatsoever. If the character fails this Will save, she will 
  do nothing at all, even in dangerous situations; in a 
  combat situation, she loses any Dexterity bonus to AC 
  and cannot take attacks of opportunity. 
  Even if the character can be motivated to act, she 
  does so listlessly and reluctantly. She can follow the 
  instructions of allies, but suffers an effective –4 penalty 
  to all attack rolls and Reflex saves. On the other hand, 
  the character’s utter lack of interest in her surroundings 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RUNNING RAVENLOFT 
  36 
  actually provides her with an effective +4 bonus to all 
  subsequent Fear, Horror, and Madness checks. 
  Hallucinations 
  The character perceives something in the world that 
  simply does not exist. In a sense, Hallucinations can be 
  considered the “external” companion to the “internal” 
  Delusions effect. As with Delusions, the nature of the 
  hallucination is usually related to the event that 
  prompted the failed Madness check. 
  Examples: A character might believe that she can 
  see ghosts, or that biting insects have infested her 
  armor, or that illithids visit her at night, or she might 
  even occasionally encounter an NPC who actually 
  exists only in her mind. 
  In a sense, a hallucination can be thought of as a 
  phantasm spell on the level of a major image, but one 
  where the insane character is both caster and subject. 
  As with illusions, the DM should present hallucinatory 
  episodes as real events when they first manifest. 
  Menacing hallucinations may provoke Fear or Horror 
  checks. (DC depends on the specific scene; see the 
  sections on Determining DC for Fear and Horror 
  checks.) Hallucinations can even attack the character, 
  though they can only inflict subdual damage. (The 
  character merely believes she is being harmed.) 
  Characters have little mental defense against their 
  own inner demons. Thus, a hallucinating character 
  suffers a –2 penalty to all Fear and Horror checks 
  provoked by her own visions. 
  If a character somehow becomes aware that her 
  hallucinations are just that, she must still concentrate to 
  convince herself that the visions are not real. This 
  works just like disbelieving illusions; to dispel a 
  hallucination, the character must make a Will save at 
  DC (13 + character’s Wisdom modifier). Unlike 
  illusions, however, a hallucinating character cannot 
  receive any bonus to her Will save from the 
  reassurances of allies. An attempt to disbelieve a 
  hallucination is a standard action, and can be retried 
  each round. 
  If a character successfully disbelieves a 
  hallucination, the episode still continues for another 1d4 
  rounds. That hallucination can no longer provoke Fear 
  or Horror checks, however, nor can it inflict subdual 
  damage. 
  DM Tips: One way to present hallucinations is to 
  secretly inform the other players of the nature of the 
  character’s madness. Later—once those players know 
  that the episode the DM described won’t be real—the 
  DM can present the episode to the group as a real event, 
  and only the hallucinating character will react as if the 
  threat is real—adding to the hallucinating character’s 
  confusion. 
  The DM can then enhance this “rubber reality” 
  scenario by letting the hallucinating character see a real 
  threat that mimics a recurring vision. As an example, a 
  character who hallucinates about monstrous wolves 
  might be on watch, alone, when she spots a real pack of 
  worgs skulking around the campsite. The other 
  characters would then have to guess whether she was 
  merely “crying wolf” again. 
  Paranoia 
  The character believes that she is at the center of a 
  conspiracy dedicated to her destruction. No amount of 
  rational argument can convince her otherwise. 
  Although the character’s madness does not extend to 
  actual hallucinations, the DM should present all NPCs 
  and conversations with other characters in a menacing 
  light. The DM might drop subtle visual clues that other 
  characters are inhuman, or thread vague threats into 
  NPC conversations. (Think of all the different ways to 
  deliver the line, “I would hate to see you get hurt.”) 
  As with hallucinations, the DM may want to give 
  the other players secret signals that the scene is not 
  being presented quite as it actually exists, or the DM 
  may want to focus on the paranoid character’s 
  interaction with NPC when alone. (This avoids the 
  extra work of explaining what’s really happening to the 
  other players.) 
  The paranoid character must succeed at a Will save 
  with a DC equal to that of the failed Madness check in 
  order to place any trust in any other characters. If the 
  character fails the Will save, she must refuse all offers 
  of help (for being “obvious traps”). 
  If a paranoid character ever does come upon actual 
  evidence that she has been betrayed or that others are 
  conspiring against her, she must make an immediate 
  Horror check at (DC 12 + character’s Wisdom 
  modifier). 
  Amnesia 
  A much more disabling form of the Blackout effect, 
  Amnesia is the result of an affected mind’s desperate 
  attempt to shield itself from the memory that provoked 
  the Madness check. Throwing the baby out with the 
  bathwater, the amnesiac character immediately blocks 
  out all memory of the maddening event—along with 
  many of the months or years that came before it. 
  If a failed Madness check ends in an Amnesia 
  result, the DM should roll d%. Multiply this percentage 
  times the character’s total levels (rounding down). The 
  character then receives that many negative levels. 
  Although an amnesiac character still has access to 
  all of her skills, the character loses all memory of 
  events since gaining those levels. A character who 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RUNNING RAVENLOFT 
  37 
  acquires a number of negative levels equal to her 
  character level regresses to childhood. 
  Example: A 15th-level fighter fails a Madness 
  check, resulting in Amnesia. The DM rolls d%, with a 
  result of 48. The fighter then acquires seven (15 x 48% 
  = 7.2, rounded down) negative levels. This fighter 
  would not remember any events he has witnessed or 
  any people he has met since becoming an 8th-level 
  fighter. 
  Restoration spells cannot remove these negative 
  levels; they are caused by memory loss, not negative 
  energy. 
  Multiple Personalities 
  The character’s psyche makes a desperate attempt to 
  contain the mental trauma it has suffered by splintering 
  into separate identities. 
  The Multiple Personalities effect remains largely 
  unchanged from Domains of Dread; the character 
  retains a core personality, 10d10 fragments, and 2d10 
  alter egos. 
  The core personality is the character’s original 
  persona. It has access to all of the character’s 
  memories, skills, and abilities. 
  Fragments are partial personas, easily described in 
  a single phrase, such as “coin collector,” “sleepy child,” 
  or “talented dancer.” The player can assign a single 
  skill or ability to each fragment. Fragments can use 
  their one talent if called upon, but they always ignore 
  anything that has no relation to their single subject. 
  Alter egos are fully formed personalities. Each 
  alter considers itself a distinct individual, but alters 
  often believe that their race, class, or even gender 
  differs from the core personality. As with Delusional 
  characters, these alters cannot be convinced that they 
  are not as real as the core personality. The player 
  should flesh out the persona of each alter, using Tables 
  11–14 in Chapter Six of Domains of Dread for ideas. 
  Alter egos also have access to all of the core 
  personality’s skills and abilities, but they will not use 
  them if doing so is “out of character.” For example, a 
  wizard’s alter that believes itself to be a simple-minded 
  ogre wouldn’t cast spells. 
  The player should write a numbered list of her 
  character’s fragments and alters for ease of reference. 
  Whenever a character suffering from Multiple 
  Personalities has to make a Will save (including Fear, 
  Horror, and Madness checks), she must also make an 
  immediate Will save equal to the failed Madness 
  check’s DC or randomly switch personalities (as a free 
  action). The character should also make a Will save 
  (DC 15 + character’s Wisdom modifier) each time she 
  rests. If the character succeeds at the Will save, she 
  wakes up as the core personality. If she fails, she 
  switches to a random persona. 
  The core personality has no conscious memory of 
  time spent in other personalities, but the character does 
  not acquire negative levels as with Amnesia. Alters 
  typically are aware of each other, and can “leave 
  messages” for each other if they wish. It is not 
  uncommon for alters to dislike each other or the core 
  personality. 
  Schizophrenia 
  The character’s personality suffers a serious collapse. 
  As the character’s sense of “self” erodes, she can suffer 
  drastic and unpredictable personality shifts. Once every 
  week, and whenever the character makes a Will save of 
  any kind (including Fear, Horror, and Madness checks), 
  the character must succeed at a Will save (DC 15 + 
  character’s Wisdom modifier). If the character fails this 
  save, her alignment immediately and randomly 
  changes. Use Table 10 in Chapter Six of Domains of 
  Dread to determine the character’s new alignment. A 
  character might be a saint one moment, a monster the 
  next. 
  Suicidal Thoughts 
  This is a more serious form of the Depression effect. In 
  addition to all of the effects detailed under Depression, 
  the character’s will to live hangs by a thread. If the 
  character fails any subsequent Fear, Horror, or Madness 
  checks, she will soon (within an hour) make an attempt 
  to take her own life. The character makes the suicide 
  attempt via the most efficient means at her disposal: 
  leaping off a high balcony, drinking poisonous 
  chemicals, flinging herself into a river, etc. 
  A character can also use a piercing or slashing 
  melee weapon to inflict a coup de grace against herself. 
  (This may also be possible with some ranged weapons 
  such as crossbows and firearms.) 
  Madness and Campaign Styles 
  To gain their full effect, Madness effects depend 
  heavily on the players’ willingness to roleplay various 
  forms of mental damage. This probably won’t be a 
  problem in a campaign utilizing a great deal of 
  personality and character development (the “Deep-
  Immersion Storytelling” style of play mentioned in the 
  Dungeon Master’s Guide). On the other hand, if your 
  group prefers “Kick in the Door” gaming, many 
  Madness effects run the risk of actively impairing the 
  fun of the game. If the players aren’t interested in 
  roleplaying Madness effects, it’s best to simply remove 
  those effects from the game. In this case, failed 
  Madness checks only cause effective ability decreases, 
  as described above. 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RUNNING RAVENLOFT 
  38 
  Additional Failures 
  If a character fails another Madness check while 
  suffering the effects of a previous failure, do not roll 
  1d4 to determine a new effect; the character’s mind, 
  already insane, will merely sink deeper into its existing 
  dementia. Ability score decreases are cumulative with 
  multiple failed Madness checks, however. 
  If any of the character’s mental ability scores ever 
  drop below 3, she becomes what is commonly known in 
  Ravenloft as a “lost one”—a walking catatonic whose 
  mind was shattered by memories too horrible to bear. 
  The character becomes an NPC until she has at least a 3 
  in all mental ability scores; until then, the character will 
  eat and drink if fed, will walk if led, and may 
  occasionally mumble some gibberish, but otherwise can 
  take no actions. 
  The DM can shape a lost one’s personality by 
  looking at which ability score has dropped to 1 or 2. A 
  lost one with minimal Intelligence may seem like a 
  cheery and friendly fellow—but he might have 
  absolutely no short-term memory, never remembering 
  anything about anyone from one minute to the next. A 
  lost one with minimal Wisdom might remember 
  conversations he had years ago, but could be 
  completely stymied by any kind of external task, such 
  as opening a door latch or changing his clothes. A lost 
  one with minimal Charisma might wander in a daze, 
  writing strange poetry to himself, but seemingly unable 
  to register the presence of other people. 
  If any ability score drops to 0, the character slips 
  into complete catatonia (see Chapter Three of the 
  Dungeon Master’s Guide). If all three ability scores are 
  raised above 0 again, the character wakes up as a lost 
  one. 
  Madness and Alignment 
  Some Madness effects like Unhinged and 
  Schizophrenia can cause a character’s alignment to 
  temporarily change. This is an involuntary alignment 
  shift, but does not require an additional Madness check. 
  Some classes require specific alignments, such as the 
  lawful good paladin or the non-lawful barbarian. In 
  these cases, the insane character should be considered 
  an effective “Ex-” member of that class, and may or 
  may not lose class abilities. (For example, an ex-
  barbarian loses the ability to rage, whereas an ex-monk 
  still retains all abilities.) 
  This loss of class abilities is only temporary; 
  because the alignment change is involuntary, the 
  character is not considered to have actually abandoned 
  the class. When the Madness effect causing the 
  alignment change is removed, the character’s original 
  alignment is restored and she can continue to gain 
  levels in that class as normal. Some religious classes, 
  such as the druid or paladin, may be required to atone 
  first, however. 
  Recovering from Failure 
  In most cases, the road from madness to recovery is 
  long and difficult. All Madness effects are removed 
  when all ability points lost to the failed Madness check 
  are regained. In the case of minor Madness checks, this 
  period is mercifully short; never longer than six hours, 
  as detailed above. Moderate and major effects require 
  much more effort to shake off. Several methods are 
  available to characters in need of recovery: 
  Peace and Quiet 
  If the character rests for 30 days without failing any 
  subsequent Will saves (including Fear, Horror, and 
  Madness checks), she can make another Madness check 
  against the same DC. If this check succeeds, she regains 
  one point in one of her decreased ability scores. While 
  the player can choose which ability score to place the 
  point in, the fastest road to recovery typically lies in 
  restoring Wisdom to normal first. 
  The character can attempt a new Madness check 
  once per restful month against the original DC until 
  Intelligence, Wisdom, and Charisma return to normal. 
  However—particularly if the character’s Wisdom score 
  was drastically lowered by the Madness check—the DC 
  may be so high that the character cannot succeed. In 
  these cases, the character will need to turn to outside 
  help. 
  Magic 
  If available, magic is the quickest and most efficient 
  method of recovery. Restoration can restore drained 
  ability scores, but requires three castings to remove a 
  Madness effect (one casting to restore each ability 
  score), while the spells greater restoration and heal can 
  each cure madness at a stroke. Note that of these spells, 
  only heal can restore memories lost to a Blackout or 
  Amnesia. Modify memory can also restore lost 
  memories, but may require multiple castings to recover 
  all lost memories. 
  Hypnosis 
  If the character does not have access to magic, having 
  access to a character with the Hypnosis skill is the next 
  best option. The hypnotism spell can be used in the 
  same way; use this system, but the spell’s increased 
  efficiency grants the subject a +2 bonus to her Madness 
  check. 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RUNNING RAVENLOFT 
  39 
  Hypnosis is a new technique, first developed (and 
  still largely limited to) the doctors working in 
  Ravenloft’s handful of asylums and sanitariums. Were 
  magic more plentiful in Ravenloft, this skill would be 
  even less known—it is primarily a non-magical 
  substitute for the hypnotism spell. 
  When curing madness, the DC of a Hypnosis skill 
  check is equal to the DC of the subject’s failed Madness 
  check. The hypnotist may benefit from the modifiers 
  listed on Table 15 in Chapter Six of Domains of Dread. 
  If the hypnotist has at least 5 ranks in Healing, she 
  gains a +2 synergy bonus to the skill check. 
  Characters can retry Hypnosis checks once per 
  week (per subject) until the subject recovers. (This 
  means that the aid of a successful hypnotist can give the 
  insane character four chances to make recovery 
  attempts each month, rather than just one.) A character 
  cannot use Hypnosis on herself. 
  A successful Hypnosis check garners two results. 
  First, the subject can attempt an immediate Madness 
  check to regain a single ability point, as detailed under 
  Peace and Quiet, above. Second, each successful use of 
  Hypnosis reduces the DC of the Madness check by 1 
  point. 
  Example: A villager has failed a Madness check at 
  DC 24. Sadly, the villager’s total bonus to his Will save 
  is only +2; it was +3, but he lost 2 points of Wisdom 
  when he failed the original Madness check. Even if he 
  rolls a 20 on his Will save, the best he can do is a 22; 
  without help, he’ll never recover from his madness. 
  Fortunately, a local doctor and skilled hypnotist 
  takes the villager under his wing. In their first treatment 
  session, the doctor makes a Hypnosis check against DC 
  24. With his total bonuses, he rolls a result of 27; a 
  success. Future Madness checks on the villager’s road 
  to recovery will now only be DC 23. The villager still 
  can’t make that, but another successful hypnosis session 
  the next week would reduce the DC to 22, and so on—
  and the villager’s chances for recovery would start to 
  grow. 
  Sanitariums 
  A few sanitariums are scattered across Ravenloft. While 
  their purpose is to lift the affliction of madness, more 
  often they simply serve as prisons for the insane. 
  Recovery in a sanitarium works just like hypnosis (in 
  fact, that’s the typical method of recovery used), but the 
  sad truth is that a patient in a sanitarium is unlikely to 
  receive the careful attention she requires. Each 
  sanitarium offers a flat 1d8–5 (between –4 and +3) 
  modifier to all Madness checks made on the road to 
  recovery in their care. As the modifier indicates, many 
  patients in Ravenloft’s sanitariums would be better off 
  locked in their nephews’ attics. 
  Patients in a sanitarium can make one Madness 
  check per month, adding the modifier above. Each 
  success restores one point in one decreased ability score 
  (player’s choice) and reduces the DC of future Madness 
  checks made in that recovery process by 1 point. (This 
  bonus is cumulative.) 
  New Skill 
  Hypnosis (Cha; Trained Only) 
  You have studied the hidden workings of the human 
  mind and can unlock its secrets. Hypnosis is a class 
  skill for monks, sorcerers, and wizards. Experts can 
  choose Hypnosis as one of their class skills if they 
  wish. 
  Check: You can use hypnosis to induce a deep, 
  calming trance in your subject. The effects of a 
  hypnotic trance are identical to those created by the 
  hypnotism spell. Unlike the spell, however, the skill 
  only allows you to hypnotize one subject at a time (who 
  does not receive the –2 penalty to her Will save). The 
  subject need not be willing, but each attempt to use 
  hypnosis requires one hour, so this skill cannot be used 
  in combat, and an unwilling subject might need to be 
  restrained. 
  To hypnotize a subject, you must make an opposed 
  roll: your Hypnosis check against the subject’s Will 
  save. (Willing subjects can always voluntarily fail their 
  saving throw.) Loud or distracting surroundings grant a 
  +2 situational modifier to the subject’s Will save. 
  Once the subject is hypnotized, you can either plant 
  a suggestion (as per the hypnostism spell), or you can 
  aid in the recovery of a subject who is suffering from 
  the effects of a failed Madness check. The latter option 
  is detailed under the “Recovering from Failure” section 
  of Madness checks, above. 
  Retry: Yes, but if you fail a hypnosis check, the 
  subject automatically realizes that you were attempting 
  to lure her into a trance (if she didn’t already know). 
  Additional attempts to hypnotize unwilling subjects 
  generally don’t work. Retries are a vital part in the 
  process of helping subjects recover from Madness 
  effects, however; see above. 
  New Feat 
  Courage [General] 
  You are particularly fearless in the face of danger. 
  Benefit: You get a +4 bonus to all Fear checks. 
  ! 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RUNNING RAVENLOFT 
  40 
  THE TALE OF THE  
  LADY OF THE LAKE 
  A Song of Sorrow from Castle Island 
  by Ryan Naylor 
  Schadenfreude13@hotmail.com 
   
  Biography 
  here are few forces in the world that are 
  stronger than love. Love can redeem, 
  strengthen, and save. If it is soured, 
  however, there is little that can stand in the 
  way of the emotions that are unleashed—jealousy, 
  bitterness, rage and the lust for revenge. When the 
  creature whose love is lost is formed purely by emotion, 
  then the consequences can be terrifying. The Lady of 
  the Lake is one such soured spirit, who sacrificed 
  everything to avenge her lover’s death. 
  Appearance 
  The Lady of the Lake, as an elemental spirit, has no 
  constant appearance. She can appear as whatever she 
  desires, although she does have favorite forms. Before 
  the destruction of Demnach Keep, she normally 
  appeared as a delicate, aristocratic woman with hair so 
  blond that it was almost white. Since her imprisonment 
  on Castle Island, however, she has begun to adopt the 
  more disturbing form of a woman with the blue-white 
  skin of the recently drowned and greenish hair like 
  kelp. She continues to wear the elegant flowing gowns 
  she wore in happier times. Despite her unnerving 
  appearance and the lines of anger and frustration that 
  mar her face, she is still incredibly beautiful in 
  whatever form she chooses. Her eyes are the only 
  constant features. They are always blue and flecked 
  with gold. 
  Background 
  In the Mountains of Misery in Darkon, there was once a 
  lake. The valley that contained the Lake had been 
  carved from the side of the mountain centuries before 
  by a glacier. Thermal springs mixed with the cold 
  mountain water and warmed the mineral rich soil, 
  creating a fog-enshrouded paradise on the side of the 
  bleak mountain. The valley was so uniquely beautiful 
  and the Lake so pure that two spirits arose from its 
  waters, to protect the Lake and the creatures that 
  depended upon it. The Lady of the Lake arose from the 
  water like an angel. She took the form of a beautiful 
  woman, and the entire valley was so enchanted by her 
  beauty that it reflected her moods. When she was angry, 
  the wind roared and animals hid in their burrows. When 
  she was happy, the water itself seemed to sing. In the 
  entire valley there was only one person who didn’t 
  suffer the tempestuous passions of the Lady. The 
  Avanc, gifted with the power of prophecy and a kind 
  and generous spirit, was the calm center to the Lady’s 
  spirit, and she loved him dearly. 
  In the year 600 BC, King Azalin ordered a castle to 
  be built, guarding a pass between the mountains. The 
  pass was rarely used, but Azalin did not care to leave 
  any flank unguarded and he had rarely regretted being 
  too cautious. Still, in recognition of the small chance of 
  invasion, he entrusted the area to the Demnach family 
  and forgot about it. He was reminded of the tiny castle 
  and its attendant village only rarely, when a scion of the 
  Demnach family journeyed out to combat evil. The 
  noble family took their role as defenders of Darkon 
  seriously, although often the creatures of the night 
  proved too strong for them. 
  Unlike Azalin, the Lady of the Lake and the Avanc 
  in their secluded paradise above the village did not 
  forget about the humans. On the day the first Demnach 
  T 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT DENIZENS 
  41 
  rode forth from the castle, the Avanc fell into a deep 
  trance. 
  “A man will be born of that family that will be 
  possessed of such goodness that he can save all within 
  the Lands of the Mists,” the prophet intoned when he 
  awoke. The pair of spirits began to watch for this 
  virtuous man, and gradually the humans became aware 
  of them. Although the superstitious peasants held the 
  spirits in fear and awe, occasionally one brave soul 
  would journey up to the Lake, seeking the Avanc’s 
  advice. They brought back tales of the beautiful Lady 
  and her wise consort, and finally the lord of the castle 
  himself rode up to the secluded valley. He saw the Lady 
  dancing among the trees, singing with the joy of life, 
  and was bewitched. Remembering the Avanc’s 
  prophecy, the Lady spoke to the man. Her beauty 
  hypnotized him, and he sat, spellbound, for the entire 
  afternoon, listening to her musical words. When night 
  fell, the noble returned to the castle, where he told 
  everyone of the enchantress he had met. 
  At the time of the Great Upheaval, the Demnach 
  line had dwindled to a single man, Johann. All the 
  elders of the village agreed that of all his virtuous and 
  noble family, Johann was the most virtuous and noble. 
  On the day of the young lord’s marriage to Helena, a 
  lady from another noble family, a pale stranger came 
  down from the mountains to the south, seeking the wise 
  Avanc. Cloaked in shadows, the man sat at the edge of 
  the Lake and waited. The Avanc stared for a long time 
  at the man, and said, “You are deluded, Prince of 
  Shadows. If there is any justice in this dark world, you 
  will never see your father again.” The Prince’s face 
  twisted with rage, and he viciously cursed the prophet. 
  The fog around them roiled, and the Avanc screamed. 
  Twisted fins burst from his sides and his bones melted 
  and reformed. The Prince watched with malicious glee 
  as the Avanc dragged his bestial form back into the 
  Lake. The Lady tried to comfort her consort, telling him 
  that she had become pregnant, but the Avanc’s anguish 
  only increased. 
  The pale stranger slipped from the valley, the 
  Lady’s consoling song echoing in his ears, and sidled 
  into the castle’s main hall. Johann’s heart fell as the 
  man told him of the monster that had appeared in the 
  Lake, but he knew his duty. Johann gallantly rode forth 
  to protect his charges from the beast. The Lady found 
  her lover’s reptilian body hacked to pieces in the 
  shallows of her Lake. She cradled his monstrous head 
  in her lap and wept for his pointless death. She wept for 
  the daughter that would never know her father. Her 
  wails of anguish echoed through the benighted forest, 
  felling trees and slaying animals with its sorrow. Her 
  tears fell cold and dark into the Lake and the plants died 
  and the thermal springs froze. When the valley was as 
  wretched as her ravaged heart and she could cry no 
  more, the Lady arose. She cursed the land that had 
  brought her and her consort forth, cursed the humans 
  that had murdered him. Holding her bitterness within 
  her heart, she vowed to destroy the man who had 
  murdered her lover. 
  That night, the Lady stilled her endless song and 
  left her Lake for the first time. She walked through the 
  valleys and hills and forests until her feet bled, but she 
  never faltered. Her lust for revenge drove her on. The 
  Lady emerged from the mountains and sought out an 
  unassuming little cottage in the forests of Tepest that 
  even she in her hidden Lake had heard about. Too 
  enraged to feel fear, she stumbled over the old bones 
  that were strewn about the garden. The Lady marched 
  up to the cottage and threw open the door. 
  “I have come to see the sisters Mindefisk,” she 
  said. Stepping inside, the Lady coolly stared at the 
  Three Hags, who were shocked and delighted that such 
  a delicious morsel should simply walk into their parlor. 
  The Lady began to sing. While the sisters sat, open 
  mouthed, the Lady sang of her rage and frustration, her 
  desire to destroy all those who had taken part in her 
  lover’s murder. She poured out her hatred in a 
  venomous song, and when she had finished the sisters 
  sat and stared at her in silence. Perhaps the Three Hags 
  saw in her the potential to cause more of the evil and 
  mayhem they delighted in; perhaps their cruel hearts 
  had been moved by the Lady’s passionate tirade. They 
  allowed her to go unharmed. 
  “Help me get my revenge upon all of Demnach 
  Keep, and I will bring you a man to use as you will 
  every day for a month,” the Lady said bluntly. Still 
  shocked, the Hags agreed. 
  The Lady walked Tepest for a month, charming 
  everyone she met and delivering them to the cottage in 
  the woods. The three sisters worked at their cauldron, 
  distilling potions dark and fearsome. At the end of the 
  month the Lady returned, her figure swollen with the 
  Avanc’s child. She brought with her three beautiful 
  children as a final gift for the sisters. The Lady felt no 
  pity for the children as she watched the Three Hags 
  devour them. The part of the Lady’s soul that felt such 
  tender emotions had shriveled and died with the Avanc, 
  and she despised the superstitious peasants of Tepest 
  almost as much as the villagers of her home. She 
  simply sat down on the Sisters’ ancient table when they 
  had finished their gory meal, and removed her gown. 
  “My children will be spirits like me,” explained the 
  Lady. “I need a human woman, who can master magic I 
  cannot, and who can help me bring about the downfall 
  of Demnach Keep.” 
  Cackling, the Hags smeared her belly with their 
  foul paste. “You would sacrifice your child, and all 
  their children, and all their children, to achieve your 
  revenge?” asked one of the three. 
  “I must live forever without my husband. His death 
  feels as though something has been torn from me. How 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT DENIZENS 
  42 
  can I bear to look at my children and see him, every day 
  for the rest of eternity? Without a father, there is no 
  point to their lives. If they can avenge his death, our 
  sacrifice will have been worth it.” The Lady’s face 
  twisted with such venom that the Hags laughed 
  amongst themselves. 
  Once the witches’ magic was complete, the Lady 
  arose from the table. The tallest sister began to explain 
  again that the baby would be born a human of great 
  magical skill and beauty, but she would live out her 
  whole life in the space of a few years. The Lady waved 
  her away and returned to her Lake. By the time she got 
  there, her stomach was grotesquely distended. The birth 
  was long and painful, but finally the Lady held her 
  daughter. She named her baby Katherine. As the Sisters 
  had promised, the girl grew to adulthood in less than a 
  month. Katherine was a liar and an enchantress of 
  unsurpassed skill, although she possessed none of the 
  fey powers of her mother. Her daughter was truly 
  human. The Lady watched her progress through the 
  magical arts with a satisfied smile. 
  Once she was prepared, the Lady took Katherine to 
  the court of the Demnachs and presented her to Johann. 
  Despite his virtues, Johann was still a man, and he was 
  smitten with the beautiful woman. He did not realize 
  that her delicate features and creamy skin hid a heart as 
  black as the Hag’s cauldron which had created her. 
  Katherine began to worm her way into Johann’s 
  affections. 
  Skillfully, as her mother had taught her, Katherine 
  led Johann to neglect his wife and forsake his duties, 
  until finally she seduced the gallant noble. From a 
  hidden pocket in her discarded gown, Katherine drew 
  forth an envenomed dagger. She placed the knife 
  between Johann’s broad shoulders, and licked her lips 
  in anticipation. She was about to plunge it into the 
  sleeping knight’s back, when Helena burst into the 
  room. The noblewoman screamed in horror and despair, 
  startling Katherine. Johann spun around and managed 
  to catch Katherine’s wrist and wrestle the knife from 
  her. The witch savagely clawed at Johann’s eyes and 
  pulled her arm from his grasp. With a bitter curse, 
  Katherine jumped through the bedroom window, scaled 
  down the castle walls and vanished into the night. 
  Johann turned to his wife, but Helena stared at him with 
  such disgust and hurt that he could not speak. With a 
  sob, she turned and fled as well. Johann remembered 
  Katherine’s lips upon his and his soul shook at the 
  grievous sin he had committed. 
  The Lady comforted her weeping daughter, telling 
  her that it was not her fault that Johann had rejected her, 
  and that soon they would be revenged. As the Lady 
  spoke, Katherine began to understand that Johann had 
  wronged her, and deserved to die now more than ever. 
  The Lake became whipped by a bitter wind that echoed 
  the Lady’s voice. Katherine began to swell with 
  Johann’s child, even as the Lady poisoned her mind 
  against its father. 
  In his castle, Johann’s powers as a holy warrior 
  began to manifest. In Castle Avernus, King Azalin 
  paused in his endless experiments, feeling the first 
  glimmers of Johann’s divine might. Obsessed with his 
  Grim Harvest, however, and seeing no threat from the 
  petty noble, the lich-lord did nothing. To atone for his 
  adultery, Johann and his knights began to quest forth 
  from the castle, combating evil in all its forms. Many 
  were slain in the process, but Johann brought hope to 
  the dreary lives of many. Whenever he returned to 
  Demnach Keep, however, Helena refused to see him. 
  She was deeply hurt by her husband’s adultery, and 
  time did nothing to heal her wounds. 
  For a long time, Helena battled with her anguish. 
  Overcome with pain and fearing for her sanity, she 
  made her way up the steep mountain to the dying Lake 
  to speak to the wise spirits. Although the barren rocks 
  and mournful song frightened her, the noblewoman 
  called the Lady from the water. The Lady heard her 
  story and smiled. Instantly Helena felt her heart lift with 
  hope. The Lady told her that if Johann truly loved 
  Helena, the gods would see that they were united again. 
  It was written in the stars that, although they would be 
  tempted, true love would always reunite them. Helena’s 
  eyes widened–how simple it seemed–and she gratefully 
  kissed the hem of the Lady’s gown. 
  “But how can I return to the castle now?” Helena 
  asked. “I see the wisdom in what you say, but I am still 
  so angry. How can I face Johann?” 
  The Lady laughed tolerantly, and offered to let the 
  human stay in her magic kingdom under the Lake until 
  she was prepared to confront her husband again. In the 
  eternal peace of the Lady’s realm, she would quickly 
  find herself full of hope and forgiveness once again. 
  The Lady told her that as long as she held onto her 
  hand, she would be able to breathe water as easily as 
  air. 
  “But what will happen when we reach your realm, 
  Lady?” asked Helena. “Surely I can’t hold your hand 
  under the water forever?” 
  The Lady laughed, and told her that in the place 
  they were going, she had no need of breathing. After a 
  moment, Helena took the Lady’s hand. She led her into 
  the murky water of the Lake, and the human found she 
  could breathe easily. When they reached the deepest, 
  most black part of the Lake, the Lady abandoned her. 
  The screams that stole the last of the air from Helena’s 
  lungs bubbled up around her, and the Lady smiled. 
  As she swam to the surface, the Lady began 
  thinking about the saccharine advice she had given 
  Helena. She laughed bitterly, remembering her own 
  true love. Memories of the Avanc’s tender touch and 
  the sound of his voice rose in the Lady’s mind, and for 
  the first time she felt uncertain. She remembered the 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT DENIZENS 
  43 
  Avanc’s prediction of the Demnach that could save 
  them all. Was this truly the best way? Was it what her 
  consort would have wanted? Thinking deeply, she 
  moved to the shallows of the Lake where the Avanc had 
  been slain. The mud had swallowed the Avanc’s 
  carcass, leaving no trace; it was as though he had never 
  existed. The Lady stared at the oozing mud for a long 
  time, then turned her back on it. Disease finally 
  conquered the last tree in the valley, and it crashed to 
  the ground. All the animals had long since left the area 
  or been killed. The winds moaned a dirge through the 
  valley, echoing the song in the Lady’s barren heart. The 
  Lady of the Lake saw the desolation and found it 
  fitting. 
  When Johann learned that Helena had fled the 
  keep, he was broken hearted. He returned to his dark 
  and empty castle. Everything he saw reminded him of 
  his wife. He remembered his dalliance with Katherine 
  and compared that fleeting pleasure to Helena’s sense 
  of betrayal. He cursed Katherine viciously, blaming the 
  witch for his pain and sinfulness. All hope and piety left 
  him; he began to doubt his holy mission. He simply sat 
  in the court and mourned. 
  One of the few remaining knights dashed into the 
  main hall were Johann sat. Stuttering with fear, the 
  knight told Johann that an army of monsters was 
  attacking the castle. Johann felt a mighty rage build 
  within him when he learned that Katherine was with 
  them. The beasts had spewed into the pass from the 
  forests of Tepest, burning and murdering all they came 
  across. Already, many villagers had been slain by the 
  loathsome fiends. Katherine, her unnatural life nearly 
  ended as the Hags’ magic made her age faster and 
  faster, led the army at the side of her son Madchen. 
  Madchen was a feral, hulking brute. The residue of the 
  Hags’ magic had worked through him before his birth, 
  sapping him of any light or nobility of character and 
  leaving a rabid monster. The Lady of the Lake had 
  groomed him lovingly, preparing him for the ultimate 
  climax of her revenge. 
  The Lady watched from a hilltop as Madchen’s 
  creatures assaulted the castle. The beasts swarmed 
  around the walls in a black tide. Katherine shouted her 
  magical commands, and a bolt of lightning blasted from 
  the sky. The goblyns screeched in triumph and poured 
  through the gap in the castle walls she had created. 
  Suddenly, Johann appeared on the keep’s single tower. 
  He shouted his defiance at the barbaric horde, drew his 
  bow, and fired. Katherine gasped in pain and crumpled 
  to the ground. Blood began streaming from the arrow 
  wound in her stomach. Through eyes that blurred in 
  agony, Katherine dimly saw the Lady staring 
  imperiously down at her. Hope filled the witch’s heart, 
  and she lifted a hand towards her mother. The Lady 
  turned away. She strode into the dying castle, ignoring 
  her daughter whose last breath was spent begging her 
  for help. Inside, hordes of goblyns rampaged through 
  the halls, tearing the knights apart or being hacked to 
  pieces beneath their swords. The Lady watched the 
  carnage, and found that it pleased her. All the mortals 
  would suffer today, she vowed. She would be revenged 
  upon those who had forced her to live alone forever. 
  She made her way into the main hall. 
  In front of the Demnach throne, Johann and 
  Madchen met in a clash of sparking steel. The Lady 
  smiled cruelly. The Avanc’s prophecy of the Demnach 
  who would redeem the world rose to her mind as she 
  watched the lord and his sole heir struggling in the 
  throne room. If she had to live alone for eternity, 
  everyone would experience the pain she felt. There 
  would be no mighty savior born to this family. 
  The pair battled on. Although Johann was aided by 
  the magic of his ancestral sword of speed, Madchen had 
  been trained from birth for this moment. The Lady 
  watched as Madchen stabbed Johann, who with his last 
  strength cut down his son. 
  “Lady . . .” Johann gasped as he collapsed to the 
  ground. The Lady knelt beside him, and gently stroked 
  his hair. She pulled a crystal vial from the bodice of her 
  robe, and raised it to Johann’s lips. 
  “Here, drink this,” she whispered. Johann nodded 
  and blood bubbled from between his lips, mingling with 
  the magical potion the Lady had formed from the 
  waters of her Lake. “Once, my Lake contained only the 
  purest water. A single mouthful was enough to heal the 
  most grievous wound. Now, it simply prevents death, 
  without healing injuries. There is no healer for you 
  here. For the rest of eternity you will survive in agony, 
  wishing for death, while I visit every torture I can 
  imagine upon you. Three years ago you desecrated my 
  Lake and murdered my lover. I should have spent 
  eternity with my husband; instead, I shall spend it with 
  you.” The Lady smiled, and Johann saw for the first 
  time the malice and rage that filled the Lady’s heart. 
  Tears welled in Johann’s eyes as he saw how he had 
  been deceived and his holy course diverted. He closed 
  his eyes, and thought of his wife. The Lady threw back 
  her head and laughed. Mists filled the hall. 
  For a long time, the Mists blinded the Lady. She 
  heard the groan and crack of masonry, mingling with 
  the screams of the few mortals who had survived the 
  battle. The Lady reveled in the beautiful noises, and 
  added her own song to the symphony of destruction. 
  When the air finally cleared, she found the destruction 
  even more complete than she had hoped. A huge lake 
  had rushed into the pass, drowning everything but the 
  main hall and its surrounding rooms beneath its dark 
  surface. The fraction of the castle left above the lake’s 
  surface was irreparably ruined. For a long time, the 
  Lady wandered euphorically through the ruins, 
  marveling at how complete her victory was. She moved 
  into the black waters of the lake, and swam through the 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT DENIZENS 
  44 
  ruins of the drowned village. Suddenly, she found 
  herself back in the main hall of the castle. She 
  transformed into the shape of a gull and flew in another 
  direction, only to be transported back to the island 
  again. To her horror, she found she could go no more 
  than a quarter of a mile from the newly created island. 
  In a rage, she stormed into the keep’s hall, screaming 
  abuse at the fallen knight, blaming him for trapping her 
  on the island. She found Johann dead with a blissful 
  expression upon his face. The Lady screamed in 
  frustration and fell upon his body, tearing at him with 
  her fingernails. She was still trapped on the island. 
  The Lady of the Lake 
  Demilord of Castle Island 
  Siren, Chaotic Evil 
  Armor Class 
  3 
   
   
   
  Str  
  13 
  Movement 
  12, Swim 24  
  Dex  
  16 
  Level/Hit Dice 
  7 
   
   
   
  Con  
  13 
  Hit Points 
  40  
   
   
  Int  
  14 
  THAC0 
  13  
   
   
  Wis  
  9 
  No of Attacks 
  1 
   
   
   
  Cha  
  18 
  Damage/Attack 
  By weapon, typically 1d6+2 
  Special Attacks 
  Intelligence drain 
  Special Defenses 
  Charming song, fog cloud, 
  polymorph self, improved 
  invisibility 
  Magic Resistance 
  20% 
  Current Sketch 
  The Lady of the Lake has been trapped on Castle Island 
  since the year 744 BC. She is consumed with bitterness 
  at her imprisonment. Cheated of her lingering revenge 
  by Johann’s death, eternity grates at her unbearably. 
  She has come to believe that her prison was a last trap 
  of Johann’s, and spends days at a time cursing him for 
  the drab life she is forced to live now. Freeing herself 
  from Johann’s snare and revenging herself upon all 
  mortals have become her sole motivations. The endless 
  tedium relents only occasionally when a fisherman 
  lands or washes up on the island. Once the Lady has 
  captured these poor souls, she vents her frustrations 
  upon them. She has become quite inventive and skilful 
  in her torture, often using psychological as well as 
  physical means to break her victim’s spirits. If they 
  survive long enough for the Lady to lose her 
  inspiration, she allows them to starve to death or leaves 
  them to the sea zombies that prowl the lower levels of 
  the castle. These brief diversions do little to relieve the 
  Lady’s boredom. Compared with the glorious plans for 
  revenge that she had prepared for Johann, tormenting 
  peasants seems an empty way to spend eternity. 
  To her disgust, she has discovered from these 
  captives that the island has been moved to Lake Kronov 
  in Tepest. Although she currently has little to do with 
  the Tepestani, the idea of being trapped among the 
  superstitious bumpkins where she sacrificed her 
  daughter chafes at her endlessly. The Lady is 
  unbelievably arrogant for someone in her position, and 
  cannot tolerate the peasants she is forced to live near. 
  Far more agonizing to the Lady than her endless 
  boredom and the occasional trips the Hags make to the 
  edge of her domain to taunt her is the dark form she 
  sees swimming through the murky lake water. To 
  complete the Lady’s curse, the Dark Powers have raised 
  the Avanc from the dead. However, the Avanc’s spirit 
  has come to match his monstrous form. He prowls 
  restlessly up and down the Lake, attacking everything 
  he finds. This means fewer and fewer people venture 
  onto the lake, depriving the Lady of what little 
  entertainment she has. The Lady desperately wants to 
  be reunited with her husband, not realizing how 
  different he is from the consort she remembers. She, 
  however, cannot leave the waters surrounding the island 
  and the Avanc refuses to come within a mile of it. The 
  reappearance of her husband has led her to begin 
  questioning the wisdom of her plot. Trapped in her tiny 
  prison, with only her venomous thoughts for company, 
  the Lady of the Lake is consuming herself with rage 
  and frustration. 
  Closing the Borders 
  When the Lady wishes to seal her domain, she begins to 
  sing. A dense fog rises from the surface of the lake. As 
  the escapees try to push on into the thickening mist, it 
  begins to dance and shift, twisting itself into contorted 
  scenes. The Lady’s wailing dirge moans in the ears of 
  those trying to leave, drawing out all the secrets and 
  emotions hidden within them. If they do not return to 
  the island, these dark frustrations and sorrows 
  inevitably consume them, turning them into murderous, 
  psychotic wrecks. Even the noblest characters destroy 
  themselves in an orgy of violence. Those who flee 
  under water or somehow block out the Lady’s song 
  must contend with the Avanc and the other monstrous 
  lake denizens, who are drawn to the domain’s borders 
  by the Lady’s siren song. 
  Combat 
  Despite her unrelenting boredom, the Lady still clings 
  desperately to the hope she can find a way to be free 
  and pursue her revenge. She has no desire to end her 
  empty existence. As such, she will rarely engage 
  visitors to her island in combat. Her favorite tactic is to 
  use her song against the interlopers while protected by 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT DENIZENS 
  45 
  an improved invisibility spell. The Lady’s song is more 
  versatile than that of most sirens. As well as charming 
  all those within 30’ who fail a saving throw versus spell 
  (even those engaged in combat with her), the Lady can 
  use her song to manipulate her victims, as though using 
  an emotion spell. She tries to sow discord amongst 
  landing parties by casting the hate, hopelessness, and 
  sadness forms of the spell. 
  If the Lady is convinced there is little danger to 
  her, she will attack those who remain unaffected by her 
  charm, using the magical short sword of quickness she 
  stole from Johann’s corpse. Should events turn against 
  her, the Lady quickly flees under the cover of a fog 
  cloud or by polymorphing into the shape of a sea bird. 
  She then dives into the lake, lurking in the submerged 
  levels of the castle until she can catch the mortals off 
  guard. If she manages to capture the intruders, a touch 
  of her hand is enough to drain the Intelligence of her 
  victims to 2 if they fail as save versus poison. Towards 
  these captives she is unbearably arrogant, often 
  stressing that she is immortal while they will soon die 
  or that she manipulated the downfall of the castle. 
  Despite her hatred of all mortal beings, she is still vain 
  enough to enjoy their fear and respect, and one or two 
  are allowed to survive to serve her. They inevitably 
  starve to death. After her victims finally die, they often 
  rise as undead. Many shuffle off to the village hidden 
  under the lake. The Lady’s charm remains even after 
  the deaths of these poor souls, binding them to her as 
  sea zombies. Despite their usefulness, the Lady 
  despises her repugnant slaves. 
  The Lady of the Lake has infravision to 120 feet, 
  and can breathe water and air with equal ease. She can 
  use her spells once per day as though she was an 11th-
  level wizard. She makes all her saves at the same level, 
  with a +2 bonus against poisons. She is immune to gas 
  attacks. 
  Further Reading 
  The Lady of the Lake was introduced briefly in the 
  adventure Servants of Darkness. The Avanc is detailed 
  more fully in The Shadow Rift. 
  ! 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT DENIZENS 
  46 
  FATHER GURAN 
  A Fallen Priest for Ravenloft 
  by Christopher Adams 
  mhacdebhandia@yahoo.com 
   
  Biography 
  ather Guran is a rather unique form of the 
  undead heucuva. For his crimes performed 
  under the cover of a healer’s work, for the 
  countless innocent lives he brought to an 
  end while professing only to heal, Guran has been 
  cursed with life as a diseased, undead abomination—
  ripe fruit for the dark powers to pluck from the tree, as 
  indeed they have . . . 
  Father Guran 
  8th-level Heucuva Cleric, Chaotic Evil 
  Armor Class 
  3 
   
  Str  
  17 
  Movement 
  9 
   
  Dex  
  12 
  Level/Hit Dice 
  8 
   
  Con  
  14 
  Hit Points 
  55  
  Int  
  16 
  THAC0 
  15  
  Wis  
  17 
  No. of Attacks 
  1 
   
  Cha  
  13 
  Damage/Attack 
  1–6  
  XP  
  6,000 
  Special Attacks 
  Disease, spells 
  Special Defenses 
  Hit only by silver or +1 
  weapons, spells 
  Special Vulnerabilities 
  Turned as a spectre 
  Magic Resistance 
  Immune to all mind-
  affecting spells, plus as 
  noted above 
  Background 
  In the days following the War of the Lance on Krynn 
  and the return of the true gods to that world, Revered 
  Son Guran was known far and wide for his compassion, 
  piety, and charity, all in the name of his noble patron 
  deity, Paladine. Though his healer’s skills saved many 
  lives, the humble priest would accept no rewards, 
  professing that his true reward was the knowledge that 
  he had saved lives and brought them to the grace of 
  Paladine. As the years passed, many young acolytes of 
  the faith came to study under him, and thus his fame 
  spread to all corners of the world, borne by those who 
  had seen the man himself and come away feeling 
  blessed and enlightened. Guran was renowned as a 
  paragon of benevolence and mercy. 
  Behind the pure white facade of “Paladine’s 
  faithful servant,” however, beat a heart blacker than any 
  man could have credited the “kindly” old priest with. In 
  truth, for all the years Guran had wandered the 
  countryside preaching of Paladine’s mercy and healing 
  the sick, his soul had been deeded to black Morgion, 
  god of disease and decay. Morgion himself shielded his 
  servant from those rare few who doubted the old man’s 
  true intentions; though it cost the evil god much, Guran 
  avidly sought to justify his dark lord’s confidence. 
  For every sick child that Guran healed of the fever, 
  a score more would wither and die in the prime of their 
  youth. For every mother safely delivered of a difficult 
  birth, dozens would die in agony as they labored 
  desperately to bring a twisted and malformed child into 
  the world, one who could offer no solace to a grieving 
  father. Everywhere he traveled Guran brought with him 
  Morgion’s most fiendish plagues—diabolic maladies 
  that rotted brains, wilted limbs, cast some into the fires 
  of raging fever and chilled others to the bone with icy 
  fingers clawing at their hearts. Each of these plagues 
  spread like a summer grassfire, leaping from village to 
  village in a chain of death and ruin. Always the kindly 
  old cleric was halfway across the continent of Ansalon 
  and several months away, for the most insidious 
  element of these diseases was their slow action, 
  removing all taint of suspicion from Guran himself. 
  Often Guran would hasten back to the villages afflicted 
  with his own plagues, arriving like a miraculous savior 
  to heal the few who had managed to last long enough—
  his open sorrow over every life he failed to save 
  convinced even the most suspicious of his good 
  intentions. 
  Yet tongues wagged and people talked. The 
  common folk of Ansalon began to believe that Guran 
  must have been cursed to always be dogged with 
  disease and death wherever he traveled—yet Guran’s 
  wiles turned even this to his advantage. As these rumors 
  reached his ears, Guran began hinting that it was in fact 
  the other way around: that he had dedicated himself to 
  F 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT DENIZENS 
  47 
  pursuing and eradicating plague all his life, and that 
  some dark force was in fact dogging his steps and 
  mocking him by infecting those he had already healed. 
  This version of the story spread, and Guran’s fame 
  grew as people spoke of his dedication to his healer’s 
  work and his determination in the face of his dark 
  adversary. 
  One day in late autumn, however, all was revealed. 
  Blind chance caused a young serving girl to come 
  across Guran at his fiendish work in the servant’s 
  quarters of Tallgaard Keep in southern Solamnia; 
  though Guran immediately struck her down with all his 
  god’s cursed power, her gurgling death-cries alerted the 
  castle to the priest’s activities. As he fled the castle, 
  Morgion stretched out his rancid hand and cursed his 
  failed servant, striking him down with a terrible rotting 
  sickness. Such was the price Guran paid for his failure. 
  Morgion’s curse was slow in working, though 
  every day was a hell of torment for the dying priest. In 
  desperation, Guran turned to the only one who could 
  preserve his existence—Chemosh, lord of the undead, 
  Morgion’s fellow in the ranks of the evil gods. 
  Chemosh accepted Guran’s dying plea, and transformed 
  the cleric into a heucuva. As the flesh sloughed from 
  Guran’s bones and he looked on the world with the 
  empty sight of the undead, the Mists rose and claimed 
  him for their own. 
  Current Sketch 
  Now styling himself “Father,” Guran does not yet 
  realize that he is in a place where neither Morgion nor 
  Chemosh hold sway. Thus he wanders the domains of 
  the Core, seeking both to atone for his failure in 
  Morgion’s service and justify his new lord’s gift of 
  undeath. He continues the evil work of his mortal life, 
  though no longer does he shield his depravity behind 
  Paladine’s name; having learned that the name means 
  little or nothing to most of the folk of this strange land, 
  but wary of those travelers who have recognized the 
  name in the past, Guran prefers to invent a deity on the 
  spot when questioned. 
  Unlike normal heucuva, Guran has no particular 
  hatred of priests. Certainly, as an undead abomination 
  he fears their holy power over his kind, and loathes 
  them for their ability to upset his secret work, but he 
  retains formidable clerical powers of his own, and his 
  true obsession is death and disease. Who can say how 
  many of the plagues that have ravaged the domains of 
  the Core in the last forty years or so have been Guran’s 
  work? His cold, dead hand could be behind any one of 
  them. 
  As the years have passed, Guran has sunk into a 
  kind of madness. The depravity of now almost seventy 
  years’ worth of evil, the passage from life to undeath, 
  and the sudden shift to the strange land of Ravenloft 
  have all taken their toll on the fallen priest’s sanity, and 
  he has developed certain irrational fears. Chief among 
  his phobias is a pathological avoidance of the domain 
  of Sithicus; half-remembered tales of Lord Soth that 
  chilled even Guran’s black heart in life have mixed 
  with confused dreams and imaginings to make the death 
  knight a figure of overpowering, all-consuming evil in 
  the heucuva’s mind—Guran now believes that the death 
  knight was sent by Paladine into undeath to pursue the 
  man who blasphemed that noble god’s service. This is 
  pure fantasy, of course—Soth never even heard of 
  Guran during his reign, nor would he have cared about 
  the fallen priest were he to have learned of him—but 
  Guran’s fear remains strong, and the fallen priest will 
  not voluntarily approach within a mile of the border of 
  Sithicus. Of course, Guran refuses to believe the reports 
  that Soth has utterly vanished, believing them to be 
  nothing more than lies intended to lure him to his 
  doom. 
  Guran largely spends his undeath polymorphed 
  into mortal form, appearing just as he did in life. He 
  appears as a kindly old man with gray hair shading to 
  pure white, with compassionate brown eyes that seem 
  to absorb the suffering of those he tends. He invariably 
  wears snow-white robes. In his true form what little 
  flesh remains hangs from his cracked and rotting 
  skeleton in tattered shreds. His white robes are torn and 
  stained with blood and pus. 
  Combat 
  The dark powers have gifted this unique heucuva with 
  several powers beyond those his kind normally 
  possesses. Guran has retained the intelligence and 
  capacity for speech of his mortal life, deranged as he 
  may be, and he has even retained the spellcasting 
  powers of an 8th-level priest. His spells are invariably 
  connected to undead or disease. Guran also has the 
  capacity to control all forms of lower undead, including 
  skeletons, zombies, ghouls, and ghasts. This latter 
  power is seldom used, however, given its potential to 
  compromise his preferred disguise. 
  The rotting sickness that Guran’s claws spread is 
  more powerful than that of the “normal” heucuva; any 
  character struck by Guran’s sharp fingers must save vs. 
  poison at –4, and Morgion’s curse saps Charisma as 
  well as Strength and Constitution. Any character that 
  dies at Guran’s claws whose body is not destroyed by 
  flame or sanctified with holy water will rise as a free-
  willed heucuva within six days of death; Guran has no 
  power to command those he slays, though sometimes 
  they might travel with him of their own accord like a 
  kind of ghoulish acolyte. 
  Just as Morgion protected Guran’s secret in life, so 
  too do the dark powers protect their plaything in 
  undeath. No kind of detection spell or psionic power 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT DENIZENS 
  48 
  that might reveal Guran’s true nature will work at all; 
  only in direct combat will Guran shed his disguise, and 
  his spells are powerful enough that this is not always a 
  necessity. 
  Adventure Ideas 
  # The PCs answer a call for help from a village in the 
  throes of a virulent plague. When they arrive they 
  find that Father Guran—whom they may already 
  know by reputation—is also tending the sick. 
  Despite their best efforts, however, people continue 
  to die, though a few are saved. When Guran 
  appears at the scene of several epidemics in 
  succession, the PCs may become suspicious, 
  though proving the heucuva is at fault will be 
  difficult indeed . . . 
  # Should the whims of the Mists deposit Father 
  Guran within the Sithican borders, there is no 
  telling what his reaction will be. It is possible that 
  he might even attempt, in desperation, a 
  confrontation with Lord Soth himself. Such a quest 
  is purest madness, of course, but the PCs might be 
  swayed by the kindly old priest into lending their 
  aid . . . 
  ! 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT DENIZENS 
  49 
  EDUARD DUVOIR 
  THE LOWEST FORM OF PREDATOR 
  by Stefan MAC 
  mac_costilow@hotmail.com 
   
  When there is a lack of honor in 
  government, the morals of the whole 
  people are poisoned. 
  —Herbert Hoover 
  New York Times, August 9, 1964 
  APPEARANCE 
  duard Duvoir is a small, unremarkable man 
  who owns a tailor’s shop in Lekar, 
  Falkovnia. Although he is only thirty years 
  old, his hair is already thinned, and what 
  remains is short and wiry. His eyes dart around 
  nervously when talking, and his nose twitches almost 
  constantly. Despite his nervous appearance, he has a 
  friendly, outgoing personality, and is able to make 
  friends almost at first meeting. Despite his friendliness, 
  he has never married, nor has he ever shown any 
  inclination to. 
  Lately however, those around him have noticed a 
  subtle change in him, and neighbors talk of how he will 
  sometimes close his shop during working hours for no 
  apparent reason. They have also noticed that his shop, 
  once the epitome of tidiness, has been afflicted by 
  disorder, with supplies piled haphazardly on any flat 
  place, and clothing flung over furniture, or dangling out 
  of order on the display racks. Some customers have 
  even spotted mice scampering among the wares. 
  As he is a wererat due to a curse, he is only able to 
  change into the form of a giant rat. His appearance is of 
  a rat approximately two feet from nose to rump, but 
  with the same wiry, thinning hair as his human form. 
  The lack of hair and the wiry nature of what is left 
  combine to make him quite hideous when in this form. 
  Despite his bestial form, he continues to exude a 
  friendly personality, although his eyes in rat form 
  always glitter malevolently. 
  Although his family originally came from 
  Dementlieu, Eduard was born in Falkovnia. As such, he 
  bears a hawk brand on his forehead, marking him as a 
  native. 
  Eduard Duvoir 
  Maledictive Wererat, Neutral Evil 
  Armor Class 
  5 
   
   
  Str  
  14 
  Movement 
  12  
   
  Dex  
  18 
  Level/Hit Dice 
  5 
   
   
  Con  
  15 
  Hit Points 
  27  
   
  Int  
  13 
  THAC0 
  15  
   
  Wis  
  9 
  No. Of Attacks 
  1 or 2 
   
  Cha  
  15 
  (see below) XP  
  975 
  Damage/Attack 
  1d4 or 1d6 
  Special Attacks 
  See below 
  Special Defenses 
  See below 
  Special Vulnerabilities 
  See below 
  Magic Resistance 
  Nil 
  Background 
  Eduard Duvoir was born a tailor’s son, and while his 
  father had been fortunate enough to gain a commission 
  from the army to provide uniforms, life was still hard 
  for his family. When he reached manhood, Eduard 
  followed in his father’s trade, and upon the elder’s 
  death, continued to supply clothing to the Falkovnian 
  troops. Due to his skill and personality, his shop soon 
  became a regular place to have a drink and socialize, 
  and Eduard made friends among nearly every level of 
  society. 
  As he grew up, he saw the way the people were 
  treated. Often he had been forced to watch as entire 
  families were rounded up for imaginary crimes and 
  carted away to execution. At first the spectacle bothered 
  him, and in researching the lives of these supposed 
  “criminals,” he found more often than not that they 
  were innocent of any wrongdoing. As these were his 
  friends and neighbors, he found himself more and more 
  E 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT DENIZENS 
  50 
  frustrated by the way the military was treating them. 
  Often, he would visit the ones that had not yet been 
  executed, offering what comfort he was able. Due to the 
  fact that he had tailored nearly every uniform in the 
  city, he was even able to gain enough influence to 
  supply blankets or coats to those in the most desperate 
  need. 
  As time went on, he began to rationalize the 
  motives of the army. As he watched more and more 
  citizens carted away on trumped-up charges, he tried 
  not to notice their eyes as they were carried past. The 
  Falkovnian government was the only one he had ever 
  known, and his father had always stressed to him that 
  the family’s living depended on the good graces of the 
  military. He began to convince himself that if these 
  people were being arrested, then there must be a reason 
  for it somewhere. These attempts at justification led 
  him to think that even if the prisoners were innocent of 
  the crimes they were accused of, surely they must have 
  done something to deserve punishment. 
  One day, one of his regular customers stopped by 
  to have a cloak repaired. The man seemed very ill at 
  ease, and, as the two were close friends, Eduard offered 
  him a drink and asked what was wrong. To his shock, 
  his friend revealed that he was a half-elf, and that the 
  army was about to arrest him and his family. Eduard’s 
  first thought was to denounce him immediately, but the 
  years between the two caused him to rethink the ideas 
  he had set for himself. Before he knew what he was 
  doing, he had offered the other a hiding place in his 
  cellar. 
  As the half-elf and his family made themselves 
  comfortable, he pleaded with Eduard to accept some of 
  his family’s jewelry in payment. Eduard was awed by 
  its quality, and that night resolved to gain the rest. His 
  long and close friendship with the man was forgotten as 
  Eduard once again convinced himself that if the army 
  wanted them, then they must be guilty. He was even 
  able to rationalize a feeling of betrayal, in that in all the 
  years the two had known each other, his friend had 
  hidden his “tainted” blood. However, he did not wish to 
  lose the chance of getting the rest of the family’s 
  wealth. With that in mind, he resolved that as they were 
  already guilty in the eyes of the law, he would spare the 
  authorities the trouble of trial and execution. 
  The next morning he told his friend that he knew of 
  a way that they could escape, but that it would cost a 
  great deal. The half-elf immediately offered everything 
  the family had, and Eduard took it, promising to return 
  with help. That night, he escorted the family to a 
  warehouse where he kept his bolts of cloth, and showed 
  them the secret cellar where he kept his more valuable 
  merchandise. He assured them they would be able to 
  make themselves completely at home, as the walls 
  would hold in the noise. He then locked and barred the 
  door, and abandoned them to starve. As he had told 
  them, the walls held in the noise. No one heard their 
  pleas for help. 
  Two weeks later, he was in the warehouse looking 
  for a specific shade that had been requested by a 
  favored customer. He was unable to find any in his 
  stock, but remembered that the half-elf’s wife had once 
  worn a dress of just the shade he wanted. Unlocking the 
  door, he took the dress, and realized that the rest of the 
  family’s clothes were also salvageable. Without the 
  least remorse, he helped himself to the trunks, and even 
  robbed the remains of his victims. Later that night, he 
  returned, stuffed the bodies into crates that he normally 
  kept bolts of cloth in, weighted them with stones, and 
  dumped them into the Vuchar River. Realizing that 
  there would always be those desperate enough to try 
  and escape Drakov’s rule, he cleaned the room, and 
  then let it be known that he had ways to help those in 
  danger of arrest. 
  The final step in his corruption was when he hid a 
  woman and her children who, again, had elven blood. 
  As they died around her, she cursed Eduard: 
  Vermin you are, and shall always be, until the day 
  your victims go free! 
  Even though he was all the way across the city he 
  heard the words, and rushed back to the room to find 
  that the woman was already dead. Unnerved by the 
  curse, he destroyed the clothing and all of their 
  possessions along with the bodies, hoping to separate 
  himself from it. As the days passed, and nothing 
  happened, he decided that he had jumped to 
  conclusions, and gave no more thought to the matter. 
  Three weeks later, he had another family in “hiding.” 
  To his horror, late one afternoon his body was 
  suddenly racked with pain, and he transformed into a 
  huge rat. In panic, he hid in his attic until nightfall, at 
  which time he returned to his human form. Recalling 
  the half-breed’s words, he hurried to his warehouse and 
  found that the family’s youngest son had died that 
  afternoon. As the rest of them starved, he found that he 
  changed into a rat at the moment of each death, and 
  remained so until dusk. Completely shaken, he 
  destroyed the bodies as usual and returned to his shop 
  to try and understand his new predicament. 
  Current Sketch 
  Eduard detests his condition. As a man obsessed with 
  neatness, he sees his shop and home descending into 
  disorder as his rat side gains strength. Furthermore, the 
  mice and rats drawn to him are constantly making off 
  with small items and making nests in his stock. The 
  more he tries to exterminate his unwelcome followers, 
  the more they flock to him, and were it not for the fact 
  that he is the best tailor on the area, his customers 
  would long since have stopped their patronage. 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT DENIZENS 
  51 
  Even worse, the army is aware that someone in 
  Lekar is aiding fugitives, and Drakov himself is 
  beginning to take notice. Eduard is constantly worried 
  that his odd behavior is going to attract the notice of the 
  authorities, despite the precautions he takes. He 
  requires that relatives of the fugitives he “helps” not 
  contact him about their kin, and refuses to disclose 
  where has “relocated” a family. So far, he has been able 
  to keep his tracks covered, but he is beginning to realize 
  that it is only a matter of time before someone catches 
  on to his scheme. 
  To end his curse, he only needs to help a family 
  escape from the militia. He knows this, but every time 
  he takes another under his “protection,” the money he 
  stands to make from their effects and their clothing 
  sways him from his purpose, and once again, he 
  changes as each family member dies. To avoid this, he 
  has taken to poisoning or smothering some families 
  outright (so that he transforms only once), but he hates 
  doing this, as it will usually ruin the clothing for further 
  use. So far, he has not fed on the bodies of his victims, 
  although he experiences the urge every once in a while. 
  Combat 
  Eduard is classified as having maledictive lycanthropy, 
  as per Van Richten’s guidelines. As such his change is 
  triggered by the death of one of his victims, and he 
  remains in rat form until sunset. However, he is also 
  able to voluntarily change form three times per day. 
  When he does so, he can change back at will. He will 
  rarely if ever use this ability, as he hates his condition. 
  He is unable pass on his curse to others, and is also 
  unable to summon normal rats. Those that infest his 
  house and shop are merely pests and have no ties or 
  loyalty to him, coming only as a side effect of his new 
  condition. 
  He has never liked fighting, and if there is any 
  possible means of escape he will change into rat form 
  and flee. If he is forced into battle, he will bite once per 
  round for 1d4 damage. However, three times per day he 
  can partially change his forepaws into half-rat, half-
  human claws. With these he can make two attacks for 
  1d6 damage, and anyone hit by him must make a save 
  vs. poison or be afflicted by a painful infection that 
  reduces Dexterity and Strength by 2 points for 1d4 
  turns. 
  Eduard regenerates 2 hit points per round, and is 
  unaffected by silver. He is also immune to any form of 
  disease or poison. If he is reduced to 0 hit points, he 
  will immediately change to rat form and flee until he 
  has returned to full health. If he is hit for any amount of 
  damage at this point, he falls into a death-like state until 
  the next sunrise, at which time he awakens with 1d6 hit 
  points. 
  Any damage dealt to him by one of the tools of his 
  trade (scissors, needles, etc.), cannot be regenerated, 
  and they are the only way he can be truly killed. 
  Adventure Hooks 
  # Adventurers often come to the attention of Drakov 
  and his army, and a chance to escape the domain 
  may entice those who have been defeated in the 
  past, or who know that an outright confrontation 
  would be beyond their power. 
  # The PCs have tangled with the Falkovnian army 
  before, but need to pass through the domain to 
  complete a mission. Someone who knows of 
  Eduard’s activities tells them to contact him for 
  help, not knowing what that help entails. 
  # A friend of the PCs living in Falkovnia needs to 
  escape and goes to Eduard. The PCs later try to 
  find him, and are directed to contact a certain tailor 
  in Lekar for information. An interview with Eduard 
  should let them know that something is wrong. 
  Alternatively, they may not suspect anything, and 
  begin directing fugitives to him. 
  ! 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT DENIZENS 
  52 
  DR. HENRY WOLLCOTE 
  Angel of Mercy, Herald of Death 
  by Freidrich Gothe 
  fgothe@hotmail.com 
   
  Not mine own fears nor the prophetic 
  soul 
  Of the wide world dreaming on the 
  things to come 
  Can yet the lease of my true love control, 
  Supposed as forfeit to a confined doom. 
  —William Shakespeare 
  Sonnet 107 
  Introduction 
   was twelve years old when I first met death. 
  I remember so clearly, even now, thirty 
  years hence, the moisture of the earth and 
  the faces of the men. 
  They stood in vast formations preparing 
  themselves for death—waiting for death to claim them. 
  White and gaunt crying men, men that prayed, men that 
  tore their guts out, men like ghosts, men whose dreams 
  became as the hushed whispers rolling out across the 
  grass, they all had their way of reconciling with death. I 
  did not understand the scarlet banners with the falcon’s 
  head nor why men were willing to die for them. And 
  when they rolled out, those doomed soldiers, 
  thundering in great herds across the plane, I knew I was 
  witnessing something magnificent and terrible. 
  When the Darkonian army met with the Falcons 
  there was a great clash and suddenly the entire first line 
  fell beneath the churning swords. Some of them were 
  not dead, but the stampede crushed those who were still 
  alive. I remember wondering why we had no medics, 
  but I know now. Drakov’s generals knew what was 
  waiting for them on the other side. They knew none of 
  us were coming back. 
  A half-elf with a choke collar and a falcon branded 
  into his forehead told my team no one was to be saved. 
  We were instructed to burn the corpses as we came to 
  them. I was given a torch, and I began running about 
  setting fire to the bodies. The muddy earth was soaked 
  with blood; my boots sloshed about in the mess. I was 
  caught in a daze just then. I saw some of the injured 
  men rising from the ground and killing the medics. The 
  screams were terrible. I was so frightened that I ran into 
  the thick billows of black smoke to hide. When I finally 
  stopped running I heard someone next to me ask for 
  help. He was Darkonian. 
  He was lying on his back in a pool of blood. One 
  hand was out stretched feebly, the other was over a dark 
  black stain on his stomach. I stood still, paralyzed with 
  fear for a moment, but for some reason I felt drawn to 
  him. I knelt at his side and took his hand. He was crying 
  and begging for help; so, I looked at the wound. I was 
  quite surprised to find that, except for the wound, his 
  entire body was clean. His hands, his face, his chest—
  not a drop of blood. He began to pray as he died, and 
  when he did I saw death in his eyes. I prepared to burn 
  the corpse, but this one did not rise like the others. He 
  looked peaceful, so I left his body amid the ashes. 
  I had seen that day, in that soldier’s eyes, what no 
  man was meant to see, and I knew then too, death had a 
  name. Somehow in my epiphany I had defeated death. I 
  became a doctor years later. I performed the impossible. 
  I cheated death over and over. Where the gods 
  failed I succeeded. I claimed not to have known how I 
  managed to consistently defy medical knowledge, but 
  in truth, I knew that it had been because of what I had 
  seen back in the Dead Man’s Campaign. I tried to 
  forget. I thought it was over . . . until I met death a 
  second time. 
  ! ! ! 
  I was married to Maria Joyce Helcyna in 748 BC, 
  but often I was away on missionary activities. I spent a 
  I 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT DENIZENS 
  53 
  year in Valachan after the dissolution of Darkon, 
  another year in Borca experimenting with toxin 
  antidotes, and I was to return home to Mordent after a 
  brief tour of Hazlan. These were happy times for me. I 
  was enjoying my . . . “gift,” and thoughts of death were 
  the farthest thing from my mind. 
  My entourage and I were staying in the city of 
  Toyalis, near the Balinoks, when I met death for the 
  second time. It was in the eyes of a little Rashemi boy 
  who was sick with a festering rot. Even if I were to 
  have saved him, he would have been disfigured or 
  worse from the canker. Since the boy had been sick 
  others in the town were catching the disease. It was 
  spreading like the plague. They called it the rot. I could 
  find no cure. All of my powers failed me when I needed 
  them most. The Mulans seemed curiously immune to 
  the disease, but that did not stop them from taking the 
  opportunity to exterminate the sick. When the Rashemi 
  boy died, I saw death in his eyes too. He begged me to 
  save him, but who can withstand the architect of doom? 
  My despair lasted for days until I met a street 
  scavenger. He said that the plague was all my fault; that 
  death was seeking revenge against me for all the times I 
  had cheated it. I wanted to ignore the old man’s 
  accusations, but I could not deny his charges. Each 
  accusation brought back the memories from my 
  childhood that I labored to forget. At night I dreamed of 
  death. I saw him in the windows. I saw him in the dark 
  corners. I saw him everywhere. And one night during a 
  terrible storm I decided I would hunt death. 
  It was not hard to pick up his trail. I tracked him by 
  his sent—that moldy nausea that accompanies him 
  wherever he treads. I followed him into the Balinoks. I 
  chased him until finally, I saw him once more standing 
  before me. He was a huge figure, at least a head higher 
  than I. He was draped in rotten fur pelts. I drew my 
  sword and ran to him; I would kill death. But death 
  would not die. My sword past into his withered frame 
  and no more. Death seized me by the lapels and gazed 
  long into my soul. Then, in a flash of thunder and 
  lightning, he threw me to the rocks and was gone. But 
  in that last instance I caught a glimpse of something 
  most horrible. I saw my wife in a hellish nightmare. 
  Death was about to punish me by destroying the only 
  thing I loved! 
  I quickly assembled my entourage and rushed back 
  to Mordent. We raced against the sands of time. I madly 
  hoped that somehow, we could beat death to my home. 
  But we were too late. My wife had fallen to the rot 
  three days past. I asked to see her, I thought perhaps I 
  would cheat death once more. But alas! death would not 
  suffer my impinges any longer. I have sought death 
  ever since that day. I have tracked him to the far 
  reaches of the land, and some day I shall find him once 
  more—for even death must sleep! 
  Dr. Henry Wollcote 
  Human, 1st-level Warrior, 7th-level Expert (Doctor) 
  Strength 
  9 (–1) 
  Dexterity 
  10 (0) 
  Constitution 
  14 (+2) 
  Intelligence 
  13 (+1) 
  Wisdom 
  17 (+3) 
  Charisma 
  12 (+1) 
  Fortitude Save 
  +6 
  Reflex Save 
  +2 
  Will Save 
  +5 
  Alignment 
  Neutral Good 
  Speed 
  30 ft. 
  Size 
  M (5’10”) 
  Initiative 
  +0 
  Armor Class 
  10 
  Hit Points 
  38 
  Melee Attack 
  +5/+0 
  Ranged Attack 
  +6/+1 
  Skills: Alchemy +11, Climb +3, Diplomacy +9, Heal 
  +16, Knowledge (medicine) +14, Knowledge 
  (anatomy) +10, Knowledge (disease) +10, Ride +4, 
  Spot +5. 
  Feats: Great Fortitude, Skill Focus (heal), Skill Focus 
  (medicine), Toughness. 
  Special Equipment: Medical kit (+2 heal checks). 
  Special Abilities: Raise dead (Sp): See below. 
  Proficient in all simple and martial weapons, all 
  armor, and all shields. 
  Appearance 
  Dr. Henry Wollcote is forty-four years old, although he 
  appears to be about sixty. He has thin gray and white 
  hair. He is plump and a very monotonous dresser. 
  Rarely does he ever wear anything other than brown 
  pants, a white shirt, and his tweed jacket. He carries a 
  small black bag with medical supplies everywhere he 
  goes. 
  Background 
  Henry Oslow Wollcote III was born in 712 B.C. to a 
  struggling Mordentish family. When Henry was six, his 
  mother succumbed to a terrible illness and died. 
  Henry’s father, wanting his son to grow up in a 
  household that could provide opportunities, sent Henry 
  to live with his grandfather, Henry Oslow Wollcote I, 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT DENIZENS 
  54 
  and grandmother who were living in Falkovnia at the 
  time. 
  When war broke out between Darkon and 
  Falkovnia in 724 B.C., Drakov ordered that all 
  foreigners of eligible age in the city of Levkarest and 
  Sturben be conscripted into the army. Since Henry was 
  so young at the time, he was assigned along with the 
  other children to a team whose primary duty was to 
  burn corpses to prevent them from rising and attacking 
  on the side of the Darkonians. It was during this time 
  that he claims to have met death. 
  Henry survived the war and attended medical 
  school in Lamordia. After he married he spent several 
  years in foreign countries healing the sick and dying. 
  During this time Dr. Wollcote won incredible fame by 
  saving even the most hopeless patients, but all that 
  changed after his stay in Hazlan. 
  What occurred in Hazlan is at beast uncertain, but 
  most think that the doctor was suffering from some 
  mild, temporary madness. He cut short his tour of 
  Hazlan after claiming to have had a vision of his dead 
  wife succumbing to a disease known as “the rot.” 
  Current Sketch 
  Since the death of his wife, Dr. Wollcote has entered 
  into a deep depression. He has left his estate and 
  forsaken his wealth to help cure the ills of the poor. He 
  has become more reclusive over the years during his 
  crusade to destroy a monster he calls “death.” Often, 
  when speaking with the doctor, it is difficult to tell 
  whether or not he is speaking metaphorically. More 
  recently the doctor has begun to show signs of the rot 
  himself. 
  Personality 
  Before the death of his wife, Dr. Wollcote was very 
  arrogant and prideful. Often he would boast that he had 
  conquered death. After his time in Hazlan he had a 
  nervous break down. The doctor often appears to be 
  morbid, somber, and reclusive, but is at heart very kind 
  and warm. 
  Combat 
  The doctor still possesses some fighting skill from his 
  time in the army, but despite his skill with a weapon, 
  Dr. Wollcote avoids combat at all costs. Although he 
  will defend himself, he will absolutely not kill any 
  living thing even if it means sacrificing his own life. 
  Dr. Wollcote’s greatest power is his ability to raise 
  dead, as the spell. This ability is useable at any time, 
  but any target who has been dead for longer than seven 
  hours (one hour per Expert class level Dr. Wollcote 
  possesses) cannot benefit from the power. The 
  procedure requires 3d4 hours to perform. No one is 
  allowed to attend the procedure. If crafty PCs do 
  manage to spy on the procedure, the DM should 
  demand a Horror check at least though a Madness 
  check may be more appropriate (some things are not 
  meant to be seen). Dr. Wollcote contends that his 
  ability is nothing more than amazing medical skill, but 
  the DM is encouraged to expand upon the source of his 
  power. One thing is clear, however. The doctor’s ability 
  definitely first appeared after his stint as a Falkovnian 
  “medic” in the Dead Man’s Campaign. 
  Dr. Wollcote’s ability to raise the dead does have 
  some drawbacks. It cannot raise anyone who has died 
  from “the rot” and certain other magical diseases at the 
  DM’s discretion (e.g. mummy rot). Furthermore, each 
  time Dr. Wollcote uses his ability, he must make a 
  Fortitude save (DC 20) or suffer 1d4 points of 
  Constitution damage from the disease which has 
  infected him (see below). Since his infection, the doctor 
  has exercised more judicious control over his power. 
  Dr. Wollcote cannot recover from the Constitution loss 
  by natural means; magical healing such as restoration 
  and greater restoration has a 40% chance of healing the 
  ability damage as per the spell’s description. Nothing, 
  not even a wish, will cure him of the disease. 
  The Rot 
  Infection: Ingested 
  DC: 15 
  Incubation Period: 3 days 
  Damage: 1d4 Constitution 
  Special: Anyone who takes 4 points of Constitution 
  damage is wracked with convulsions. Make an 
  immediate Fortitude save (DC 20) or die. Successful 
  healing checks do not help a patient combat the disease. 
  Remove disease does not help a victim although 
  restoration, lesser restoration, and greater restoration 
  work normally. A victim who dies from the rot is 
  permanently dead. Only a limited wish, wish, 
  resurrection, or true resurrection have a chance of 
  restoring the victim to life. 
  Early symptoms of the rot are oral warts, profuse 
  sweating, and dry skin. As the disease progresses the 
  victim becomes dehydrated. Flesh withers, blackens, 
  and sloughs away. Violent convulsions attack the 
  victim randomly. These fits are the most dangerous 
  aspect of the disease and usually result in death. The 
  most common vector for the disease is drinking water. 
  ! 
   
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT DENIZENS 
  55 
  UMBRAN THE  
  SHADOW LICH 
  A Tenbrous Villain Who Lurks Beyond the Light 
  by Eric C. Daniel 
  fgothe@hotmail.com 
   
  BIOGRAPHY 
  he Land of Mists has many forms of 
  darkness: the darkness of night, which 
  covers the land all too often; The darkness 
  of an evil soul, which can hide within the 
  most innocent of façades; the darkness of ignorance, 
  which keeps the common folk in superstition and fear. 
  All of these forms of darkness can provide power to the 
  one who wields them skillfully. This is the tale of one 
  such hopeful who sought to wield the power of 
  darkness, the power of shadows themselves, and what it 
  caused him to become. 
  Appearance 
  Umbran resembles the mortal being he used to be, 
  except his skin has taken on a shiny black-gray color, 
  much like polished hematite, and his eyes are nothing 
  but black pits. He tends to wear black, midnight blue, 
  deep brown, or royal purple robes. Unlike other liches, 
  he does try to take care of his appearance, and repairs or 
  replaces any items of clothing that become tattered and 
  worn. 
  Umbran 
  18th-level Shadow Lich, Lawful Evil 
  Armor Class 
  0 
   
   
   
  Str  
  9 
  Movement 
  12  
   
   
  Dex  
  13 
  Level/Hit Dice 
  18/11 
   
   
  Con  
  12 
  Hit Points 
  72  
   
   
  Int  
  18 
  THAC0 
  9 
   
   
   
  Wis  
  16 
  No. of Attacks 
  1 
   
   
   
  Cha  
  15 
  Damage/Attack 
  1–10 + special (see below) 
  Special Attacks 
  Spells, see below 
  Special Defenses 
  Spells, see below 
  Magic Resistance 
  Nil 
  Background 
  A century and a half ago, Marcus Shadowmehr was 
  born to one of the rich merchant families of Il Aluk. His 
  parents were primarily wine merchants, gathering 
  vintages from across the Core, and reselling them in 
  Darkon and elsewhere. They were also devout 
  followers of the Eternal Order and the various 
  superstitions that gave rise to them. They raised their 
  son to appreciate fine quality, to always use his mind, 
  and to respect the traditions of the Eternal Order. They 
  told him to always respect the dark forces, and avoid 
  their temptations lest he join them. 
  Marcus learned his lessons well, becoming an 
  expert wine taster and smoothly taking over the family 
  business when he came of age. However, he formed his 
  own opinions about the darkness. He saw how the 
  nobles oppressed the people for their own gain and 
  pleasures. He also saw how those of an evil bent gained 
  power in the land. Even the dead, who held so much 
  power over the minds of Darkonians, were said to be 
  rapacious and evil. Marcus observed all of this, and 
  came to the conclusion that darkness and evil held great 
  T 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT DENIZENS 
  56 
  sway in the Land of Mists. He wanted to know more 
  and gain some of that power himself. 
  Marcus began to study wizardry. He hired 
  excellent tutors to teach him the basics, and then began 
  his own studies and projects. His family’s business, 
  which was still doing well, helped fund these studies. 
  Marcus also used some of the enchantments he learned 
  to gain advantages over rivals, increasing his fortune 
  even more. 
  Wanting to know more about the darkness that hid 
  true power and controlled the lands and rulers of the 
  Land of Mists, Marcus started by studying its most 
  obvious avatars: shadows, night, and gloom. He learned 
  spells for controlling and banishing light, and how to 
  use the essence of shadow to lend an edge of reality to 
  his illusions. Marcus’s studies laid the basic 
  groundwork for a new type of specialist mage unseen 
  before in the Land of Mists, the shadow mage. 
  During this time, his fortunes started to grow, as he 
  continued to use the magic he learned to aid his 
  business. Marcus’s business practices also started to 
  become more ruthless and cold-hearted, using 
  blackmail and other unsavory methods against 
  competitors. Eventually, after amassing a huge fortune, 
  he sold the family business and retired to a small 
  vineyard and manor in northeast Darkon to devote all 
  his time to his studies. 
  Marcus’s hunger for knowledge only grew after 
  becoming a full-time wizard. His studies of physical 
  and magical darkness gave him glimpses of the 
  spiritual, utter darkness he was searching for, but no 
  definite proof, no true picture. This lack of knowledge 
  frustrated him to no end. 
  During this time, he found certain tomes that 
  indicated that one with sufficient power could alter his 
  form and merge with the essence of shadow to become 
  a creature known as a shade. Marcus decided to try this 
  process, since by becoming a shade he would have an 
  eternity to work in, and be that much closer to the 
  darkness he sought. 
  To begin the transformation, he started collecting 
  items and creatures of shadow in order to study their 
  connection to what he called the “essence of darkness” 
  so he could access it himself. Marcus gathered tomes 
  and other items of power, experimented on many 
  victims, and finally captured a particular shadow to 
  examine. 
  While Marcus had summoned and controlled 
  shadows before, this shadow was supposed to have 
  spontaneously risen from the corpse of a man. Magical 
  divinations indicated this was once a living man. 
  Marcus enacted magical protections to keep him safe 
  from the shadow’s supernatural powers, and began his 
  experiments. Unfortunately, this shadow had not been 
  created by magic, but by the shadow virus (see 
  RAVENLOFT MONSTROUS COMPENDIUM Appendix III). 
  This was not something Marcus Shadowmehr knew 
  about or could prepare for, and this was his undoing. 
  During the experiments, the shadow managed to 
  strike the wizard several times and Marcus, protected 
  from most of the shadow’s powers, took no notice. But 
  these strikes were enough to infect him with the shadow 
  virus. Marcus didn’t realize this until seven days later 
  when his own shadow fractured and vanished. This put 
  him in shock until the full possible consequences came 
  to bear. Marcus subsequently began to step up his 
  experiments, trying to gain immortality before dying. 
  (He did not know that victims of the virus become 
  shadows themselves.) The result of the experiments, 
  which destroyed the original shadow, was a black and 
  bilious concoction. This was supposed to strengthen his 
  connection to the realm of shadows, exchanging his 
  flesh for the essence of shadowstuff, granting him 
  eternal life and freedom from the disease. By this time, 
  most of his body was immaterial, so Marcus had little 
  to lose by drinking it. 
  The potion itself was vile, and his reaction to it was 
  horrible. After screaming and losing consciousness, 
  Marcus spent two weeks in a coma. The potion he 
  created reacted with the shadow virus in his veins, 
  creating something quite new that was neither shade nor 
  shadow, but comprised of the essence of both, and yet 
  more powerful than either alone. Marcus Shadowmehr 
  was no more. In his place, Umbran, the Shadow Lich 
  arose. 
  Current Sketch 
  Umbran, as he now calls himself, is still devoted to 
  research. A cool, clinical, and detached scholar, he will 
  experiment on living and undead subjects alike without 
  concern for their comfort or health. He still searches for 
  the essence of evil that permeates the Land of Mists, 
  and embraces his new form to extend his research 
  indefinitely. Umbran still resides in the vineyard and 
  manor, but has expanded his lair below the manor to 
  include many laboratories, libraries, and other rooms 
  whose purpose only he knows. The valley his estate 
  resides in has grown somewhat wild over the decades, 
  and shadows, both sentient and not, stretch far and wide 
  under the grapevines that seem to cover the valley floor. 
  This has led many of the locals to rename it the Valley 
  of Gloom. Marcus also retains a certain fondness for 
  art, fine wines, and other items of beauty and taste, and 
  will sometimes cloak himself in illusion to purchase or 
  steal such things to decorate his lair. Although he 
  cannot taste the wines (a disturbing fact for one who 
  had such a highly trained pallet) he does keep them in a 
  special cellar. Marcus could be considered to have one 
  of the finest collections of valuable wines in the Land 
  of Mist. 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT DENIZENS 
  57 
  Combat 
  Umbran avoids one-on-one combat, preferring to let his 
  servants wear down and destroy opponents. Should 
  combat prove necessary, however, he is more than 
  capable of making a showing for himself. 
  Umbran is surrounded by an aura of power similar 
  to that of other types of liches, causing any creature of 
  less than 5th level or 5 HD to make a save vs. spell or 
  flee in fear. The aura of the shadow lich also causes a 
  all light sources within 10 feet to dim, reducing them to 
  little more than candlelight level. Magical light sources 
  such as light or continual light spells are also 
  dampened, giving off no more light than a standard 
  torch. The damaging effects of such lights on creatures 
  such as drow or shadows are reduced to half efficiency. 
  Sunlight is dampened down to twilight level. 
  Umbran’s touch drains 1 point of Strength from the 
  target, much like a shadow. This also inflicts 1d10 
  points of damage. Multiple attacks can drain more 
  points of Strength, and a person completely drained of 
  Strength must make a System Shock check or die. The 
  victim of such a draining can be resurrected normally. 
  Umbran can only be hit by weapons of at least +1 
  or better enchantment, and is immune to all illusions 
  and life- or mind-affecting magic. Cold, fire, and 
  electricity also have no effect. Because of his triple 
  planar link, (Demiplane of Dread, Plane of Shadow, 
  and Negative Energy Plane) he is turned as “special” 
  undead. 
  Umbran is a powerful spellcaster, being an 18th-
  level mage. Unlike most liches, Umbran is actually a 
  specialist, a shadow mage. Like normal liches, he 
  requires spellbooks and normal magical components. 
  As a shadow mage, he imposes a negative modifier to 
  subjects’ saving throws against his spells. Unlike other 
  shadow mages, this modifier is fairly constant because 
  of his darkening aura. In full daylight, apply a –1 to 
  others’ saving throws, under the effects of light or 
  continual light apply –2, in all other conditions, apply a 
  –3. Umbran has a number of magical items, some that 
  he himself has created, and others that he has collected 
  over his unlife. 
  Destroying Umbran is a bit more involved than 
  destroying other liches. Umbran keeps his life in his 
  shadow, which remains intangible and unable to be 
  affected on the Prime. The process of transformation 
  caused the lich’s flesh to be replaced with shadowstuff, 
  so when enough damage is inflicted on the lich to “kill” 
  it, the shadowstuff around his bones dissipates, causing 
  his skeleton to fall to the ground. His shadow remains 
  unaffected and hides under the bones. When the lich’s 
  life is totally in his shadow, he is said to be in 
  shadowform. While he is in shadowform, he is mobile 
  and should be treated much as a standard shadow, save 
  with its original lich aura and damage capability and 
  greater immaterialness (still takes +1 to hit). 
  After 1d3 days, Umbran manages to accumulate 
  enough shadowstuff to wrap around his bones and 
  reanimate them. If his skeleton is destroyed as well, 
  (Truly destroyed, such as by a disintegrate or wish 
  spell, not simply chopping up the bones—if the bones 
  are simply broken up, the lich can “glue” them back 
  together with shadowstuff) the lich’s shadowform 
  retreats to his lair or some other place of darkness, 
  away from the adventurers that damaged him so. After 
  1d3 weeks, he regenerates enough of this shadowstuff 
  substance to return to the Prime. There he will search 
  for a new set of bones to wrap his shadowstuff around 
  and reanimate over 1d3 days. The only way to destroy 
  him is to trap his shadowform in an area he cannot slip 
  out of, and use a combination of continual light, bless, 
  and dispel evil to completely dissipate his spirit. 
  Spellbook (5/5/5/5/5/3/3/2/1): 1st—armor, cantrip, 
  change self, chill touch*, detect magic, detect undead, 
  grease, identify, read magic, sleep*, spook*, unseen 
  servant, wizard mark; 2nd—blur*, continual 
  darkness*, darkness 15’ radius*, death recall$, detect 
  invisibility, ESP, knock, ray of enfeeblement*, scare*, 
  spectral hand*, wall of gloom*, wizard lock; 3rd—
  clairaudience, clairvoyance, dispel magic, Lorloveim’s 
  creeping shadow*#, nondetection*, phantom steed*, 
  spirit armor*, wraithform*; 4th—bestow curse, 
  dimension door*, enervation*, Evard’s black 
  tentacles*, fear*, magic mirror, minor creation*, 
  shadow monsters*; 5th—demishadow monsters*, know 
  value$, major creation*, Mordenkainen’s faithful 
  hound*, passwall*, Rary’s telepathic bond$, teleport; 
  6th—blackmantle*$, Bloodstone’s spectral steed*, 
  death fog, demishadow magic*, disintegrate, enchant 
  an item, legend lore, Lorloveim’s shadowy 
  transformation*; true seeing; 7th—duo-dimension*, 
  phase door*, power word: stun, shadowcat*, 
  shadowwalk*, teleport without error, vision; 8th—
  analyze dweomer#, permanency, maze*, screen, 
  shadowform*$, symbol; 9th—energy drain*, power 
  word: kill, shape change, wish 
  * Shadow Magic spell 
  $ From The Complete Wizard’s Handbook 
  # From PLAYER’S OPTION: Spells & Magic 
  ! 
   
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT DENIZENS 
  58 
  SIR WILLIAM CANIFAX 
  A Hunter Who Paid the Price of Knowledge in Flesh 
  by Andrew Cermak 
  cermak@kargatane.com 
   
  Introduction 
  utumn had come quietly to Mordent, the 
  summer heat trailing off lazily through the 
  month of September. The leaves had only 
  recently started to turn, and relatively few 
  dotted the forest floor. 
  James Martigan stared out at the trees through the 
  carriage window. He tried to remain as impassive as he 
  could through the jostles induced by the cantering 
  horses and the debris dotting the lightly maintained 
  road. The trip from Mordentshire was nearing its end; 
  what good came of it remained to be seen. 
  Finally, Canifax Manor came into view, sitting 
  squarely at the zenith of Canifax Hill, an unimpressive 
  landmark that had gone nameless until one Sir William 
  Canifax decided to settle atop it. The driver eased the 
  horses to a slow trot to better traverse the slowly 
  inclining terrain. 
  The carriage finally reached the zenith of its 
  destination. Martigan slowly and carefully exited the 
  carriage, leaning on his cane for balance. He looked up 
  at the manor for a moment, and was unimpressed as 
  always. For a man of money and breeding, Canifax had 
  a surprising disinterest in architectural splendor. The 
  manor was all right angles, built with practicality, 
  reliability, and frugality aforethought. Martigan 
  hobbled slowly through the open iron gate and to the 
  manor door. He rapped three times on the door with his 
  heavy cane, and stood uncomfortably as he waited for a 
  response. Even the slight autumn breeze chilled him 
  more than he was eager to endure for long. 
  A few minutes later, the door opened with a barely 
  audible creak. A young man with a somber face peered 
  out. “I’m sorry, sir, but Master Canifax is not . . .” 
  Martigan loudly cleared his throat to cut the man 
  off, and stuck the end of his cane through the doorway. 
  “I’m sorry, young man, but Master Martigan is not 
  waiting out in this cold for another second, and he is 
  certainly not turning around and going home. Now 
  stand aside, if you please. I’ve important business with 
  William.” 
  The young man stood there a moment, mouth 
  agape, and slowly moved out of the doorway. Martigan 
  stepped inside. “Thank you. Now go fetch me some hot 
  tea. I’ll find William on my own.” The young man 
  nodded slightly and hurried off. 
  It had been a long time since Martigan had walked 
  the hallways of Canifax Manor, but he found that little 
  had changed. The décor was still an odd mix of the 
  austere and the eclectic. Foreboding paintings depicting 
  grim visions rested on the walls, while brightly colored 
  and whimsical figurines from faraway lands stood 
  watch from the corners. Canifax’s studies into the 
  arcane had developed in him a taste for the dark and the 
  exotic; or perhaps it was the other way around. 
  Martigan soon found Canifax, seated in the corner 
  of his study with a book in his lap, turning the pages 
  with a gloved hand. A small fire burnt in the hearth 
  beside him, providing the room’s only light; the 
  curtains were shut tight. Canifax had always preferred 
  to read by firelight. 
  “Hello, James.” Canifax said brusquely, not 
  looking up from his book. 
  “Hello, William,” Martigan answered with equal 
  brusqueness as he stepped fully into the room. “I didn’t 
  think you could see me.” 
  “I couldn’t. I heard your cane tapping against the 
  wood floor as you approached. And no one else could 
  have cowed Marcus into letting them in.” Canifax 
  stopped his reading, closing the book softly as he 
  looked up at Martigan. “What is it you want?” 
  Martigan scowled. “What makes you so certain I 
  wanted anything from you? I seem to remember that we 
  were good friends at one point. Must all my visits be 
  selfish?” 
  Canifax rested his chin in his hand. “No, I’m sure 
  they mustn’t. But somehow it seems they always are. 
  It’s the merchant in you, James. There’s no profit in 
  social calls.” Canifax gestured to a chair in the opposite 
  corner of the room. Martigan nodded his thanks and 
  took his seat. 
  “It’s difficult for me to be as angry with you as I 
  should,” Martigan said, “since your accusations are on 
  the mark. I do need your help with something.” 
  A 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT DENIZENS 
  59 
  Canifax exhaled sharply and stared at Martigan for 
  a moment. “I hope this has nothing to do with the 
  arcane, James. My retirement was not meant as a brief 
  vacation.” 
  “This is important, William. You could at least 
  hear me out.” 
  Canifax nodded but said nothing. 
  “You may have heard that I have started taking 
  adventurers under my wing.” Canifax continued to 
  stare, giving no indication either way. “One of them has 
  vanished. I would like you to find him for me, if you 
  can.” 
  Canifax cursed softly and looked down at his 
  gloved hands, which were now folded in his lap. “How 
  old is he?” 
  “Nineteen. Is that important?” 
  “Not where the spell is concerned, no. It just gives 
  me an idea of exactly how foolish you’ve become in 
  your old age.” 
  Martigan bristled at the remark and started to rise 
  from his chair, but felt a pain in his hip and thought 
  better of it for the moment. “Foolish, am I? For doing 
  what I can to see that other fathers need not lose their 
  children in the night?” 
  “No, for sending idealistic and impressionable 
  children to fight the battles for you.” 
  Martigan dismissed the retort with a wave of his 
  hand. “The ‘children’ would have fought the battles 
  without my assistance. I do what I can to give them a 
  fighting chance. It’s no different than what Rudolph did 
  with his guides.” 
  Canifax shook his head. “I question Rudolph’s 
  wisdom on that count as well. But at least he could 
  temper his acolytes’ enthusiasm with his personal 
  experience. You never raised a sword against evil, 
  James. You send children to the lion’s den and can’t 
  even tell them what a lion looks like.” 
  Martigan snorted. “I forgot I was in the presence of 
  a hero. I should have bowed.” 
  Canifax chuckled softly. “Where was he lost?” 
  “Lamordia. Neufurchtenburg, to be precise. He was 
  investigating some unusual disappearances, and he’s 
  been out of contact for two weeks. Naturally, I have 
  concerns. Do you think you can find him?” 
  Canifax sighed. “Perhaps. I’ll need something 
  belonging to him.” 
  Martigan thought for a moment and then reached 
  into his pocket. He pulled out a small silver disc and 
  flipped it to Canifax, who caught it deftly and held it in 
  his palm, examining it. 
  “It’s a Kartakan coin,” Martigan said. “He keeps it 
  as a good luck charm, but accidentally left it at my 
  home when he departed.” 
  Canifax looked up from the coin. “Not much of a 
  traveler, is he? I have a sackful of these.” Canifax put 
  the coin in his own pocket. “Regardless, it should be 
  sufficient. Now we must go to Lamordia.” 
  “Martigan frowned. “Why ‘we’? Can’t you cast the 
  spell here?” 
  “I could, but it wouldn’t do any good unless he’s in 
  Mordent. To find someone lost in Lamordia, the spell 
  must be cast in Lamordia.” 
  “What? Why? Are you telling me magic is slave to 
  political boundaries?” 
  “That is precisely what I’m telling you.” 
  Martigan was incredulous. “But why should that be 
  so?” 
  Canifax paused thoughtfully. “There are numerous 
  theories. The most popular is that magic is affected by 
  the force of belief. Political borders may be imaginary 
  lines on a map, but they are very powerful nonetheless. 
  A man who crosses the border from Mordent to 
  Dementlieu takes only a single step, but with that step 
  his view of his surroundings changes completely. It’s as 
  if he has traveled to a separate world. Some believe that 
  magic is affected by that change in perspective.” 
  “I see. Is that what you believe?” 
  Canifax was silent for a long time, staring at his 
  folded hands once more. At last he spoke. “No. I have   
  . . . reason . . . to believe that something is consciously 
  limiting magic. What exactly, I cannot say, but I believe 
  that there is an outside force that does not want mages 
  to be . . . too powerful.” 
  Martigan was quiet for a moment as well. “You 
  make it sound quite sinister. Is that such a bad thing?” 
  Canifax didn’t answer, instead rising to his feet. 
  “We’re wasting time discussing speculations. Let me 
  gather some things, and we’ll head to Lamordia..” 
  Martigan nodded and slowly stood himself, grunting as 
  he did so. 
  “But let me make one thing clear, James.” Canifax 
  crossed his arms and regarded Martigan with a stony 
  face. “My decision to retire was not made lightly. I had 
  compelling reasons, and it is only our friendship and 
  concern for a young man’s welfare that lead me to set 
  them aside today. 
  “But it only for today. I do not expect to be asked a 
  favor of this sort by you again. As my friend, I would 
  expect you to respect my wishes even if you do not 
  understand the reasons.” 
  Martigan said nothing, and walked slowly from the 
  room. Canifax knew that was as much acquiescence as 
  he could expect James Martigan to show. When 
  Martigan was out of sight, Canifax slowly removed his 
  padded leather gloves. He held his withered, bony 
  hands in front of his face, the fingers twisted and 
  splayed, the bone-white flesh cracked and bleeding. 
  He knew all too well the price of magic. 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT DENIZENS 
  60 
  Sir William Canifax 
  Human Male, 12th-Level Wizard 
  Strength 
  11 (0) 
  Dexterity 
  12 (+1) 
  Constitution 
  10 (0) 
  Intelligence 
  17 (+3) 
  Wisdom 
  13 (+1) 
  Charisma 
  9 (–1) 
  Fortitude Save 
  +4 
  Reflex Save 
  +4 
  Will Save 
  +9 
  Alignment 
  Lawful Good 
  Speed 
  30 ft. 
  Size 
  M 
  Initiative 
  +1 
  Armor Class 
  11 (+1 Dexterity) 
  Hit Points 
  26 
  Attack Bonus 
  +6/+1 
  Skills: Alchemy +5, Balance +1, Climb +1, 
  Concentration +12, Hide +1, Intimidate +3, Knowledge 
  (arcana) +12, Knowledge (constructs) +3, Knowledge 
  (Mordent) +4, Knowledge (shapechangers) +7, 
  Knowledge (undead) +7, Ride +3, Scry +5, Search +1, 
  Sense Motive +3, Spellcraft +16, Spot +1, Swim +3 
  Feats: Combat Casting, Empower Spell, Quicken Spell, 
  Silent Spell, Spell Mastery (detect magic, dispel magic, 
  magic missile), Spell Penetration, Still Spell 
  Languages: Mordentish, Balok, Darkonese, 
  Falkovnian, Lamordian, Kartakan 
  Appearance 
  An unusually tall man at 6’4”, Canifax often appears 
  even taller by virtue of the top hat he is rarely seen 
  without. He favors dark clothing of Dementlieu origin, 
  and wears a black cloak whenever the temperature 
  permits. 
  His hair is dark, but his neatly trimmed beard is 
  streaked with white. His eyes are hazel; he is slightly 
  near-sighted and makes occasional use of a monocle. 
  Background 
  Sir William Canifax was born the son of wealthy 
  landowners in southern Mordent, in the Barovian year 
  698. Southern Mordent is lightly populated, home to 
  scattered villages and farmland, and the Canifax family 
  was not particularly powerful or wealthy in the larger 
  scheme of things. Still, William’s parents had more 
  than enough means at their disposal to provide for their 
  son’s well being, and William wanted for little as a 
  youth. 
  As he grew older, William began to tire of 
  provincial life. He was a brilliant child, and his parents 
  made certain that he received the best education within 
  their means, but while William excelled in academic 
  pursuits he found little in them that was capable of 
  capturing his interest.  
  William began to withdraw from his family and 
  peers, spending most of his time alone with his 
  thoughts. 
  His parents were naturally concerned by William’s 
  distance, and searched for ways to spark his attention. 
  Desperate for ideas, William’s father began collecting 
  rare and exotic books, hoping that he might find 
  something William would take an interest in. 
  Eventually, he did. 
  It was a small primer on the arcane, poorly written 
  and even more poorly researched, but William found it 
  fascinating. The concept of magic captivated him. At 
  the age of thirteen, William Canifax became a 
  voracious consumer of arcane writings. His parents 
  were not exactly thrilled with the nature of his 
  newfound interest, but given that William seemed 
  happy for the first time in years they continued to 
  support his interests. 
  As the years passed, with much study and travel, 
  William became a competent wizard. He also found 
  himself becoming bored with life once more. The more 
  he studied magic, the more bored he became with its 
  theoretical aspects, and there seemed little of a practical 
  nature he could do with it and stay within the bounds of 
  morality. In 727, however, the practical side of magic 
  began to open itself up to William. 
  The normal tranquility of southern Mordent was 
  broken by a rash of robberies and murders along the 
  areas few roads. Remains of several victims had been 
  discovered, butchered and stripped of all belongings. 
  Several of the bodies had what were unmistakably teeth 
  marks. Had the victims not been robbed, the deaths 
  might have been attributed to wild animals, but the 
  evidence of intelligent design made it clear something 
  far more sinister was at work. Local villagers were 
  terrified, and travel through the region ground to a halt. 
  William, on the other hand, was intrigued, and 
  convinced himself that he could do something about the 
  murders. Armed with some of his most potent spells, 
  and little else, William began patrolling the nighttime 
  roads. He barely escaped with his life. 
  Before he knew anything was there, he found 
  himself set upon from the shadows. A pack of small 
  figures, impossible to make out clearly in the 
  moonlight, surrounded his horse and began slashing at 
  its legs, trying to cripple the beast. Stunned at first, 
  William regained his composure and began an 
  incantation. One of the creatures fell to the ground as 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT DENIZENS 
  61 
  two shafts of golden energy streamed from William’s 
  pointed finger and struck it in the chest. The remaining 
  beasts jumped back warily. In the brief flash of light, 
  William saw the faces of what he was dealing with. 
  Twisted, bestial monstrosities, with maws full of sharp 
  teeth, clutching small, barbed daggers . . . Terrified, 
  William spurred his horse, and it galloped ahead as best 
  it could. The beasts didn’t bother to pursue, and were 
  soon left far behind. 
  Though his first monster hunt had hardly been a 
  success, William was not disheartened. In fact, now that 
  the danger was passed, he found that he had rather 
  enjoyed his brief encounter with danger. Only a week 
  later, William returned, and the remainder of the 
  Goblyn Robbers of Mordent were destroyed. 
  William would spend the next 22 years hunting 
  monsters, developing his arcane skills and becoming a 
  true force to be reckoned with. After the death of his 
  parents, he moved away from the village of his birth 
  and built a new estate on a hill deep in the woods, 
  where he could carry on his unusual hobby in peace and 
  without disturbance. While he would never attain the 
  fame of the great Van Richten, or Mordent’s other 
  native son George Weathermay, William Canifax 
  would go on to have a truly distinguished career as a 
  slayer of monsters . . . one that would end in tragedy. 
  William had been hunting the monster for several 
  months, along with two young, strong warriors he had 
  brought along to ensure that he had the time and space 
  necessary to cast his spells. The beast was a werewolf, 
  an unusually clever brute that had been marauding the 
  countryside of Mordent and Richemulot. They had 
  flushed the beast out into an open field and were 
  preparing to slay it at last. 
  Minutes later, the two warriors were dead, their 
  slashed and broken bodies laying in the grass, while 
  William sat crouched between them, hands clasped to 
  the gash in his leg, mouth mumbling an incantation. 
  The beast had been stronger and faster than they could 
  have imagined, and now it looked down at William, 
  seemingly reveling in his desperation and amused by 
  his continued efforts. 
  William had prepared this particular spell just in 
  case such a disaster had occurred, to buy himself the 
  time necessary to bring more powerful enchantments to 
  bear. He had never employed magic of this nature 
  before, but he saw no other recourse. William 
  completed his spell, and reached out his hands to touch 
  the corpses of his allies. Suddenly, the bodies jerked 
  and rose to their feat, animated by William’s magic. 
  The beast stepped back, surprised by this turn of 
  events, and as his zombies moved to engage the 
  monster William began casting a new spell . . . when he 
  felt a sudden coldness settle into his chest. His vision 
  blurred, as if clouded by mist, and inaudible whispers 
  seemed to buzz just outside his ears. The coldness in his 
  chest traveled down his arms, settling in his hands, 
  where he felt the flesh crack and shrivel. The skin of his 
  hands paled to a nauseating white, and the fingers 
  curled and gnarled as he watched. The incantation died 
  in his throat, replaced by a gasp of pain. William looked 
  up to see the beast once more standing over the corpses 
  of his departed allies, rent anew, and the beast seemed 
  to grin as if recognizing his pain and confusion. Their 
  eyes locked for a moment, and then the beast turned 
  and fled into the night. 
  The next day, confused and terrified by what had 
  happened, William decided to retire not only from 
  monster hunting, but from the practice of magic 
  entirely. He had devoted so much of his life to the 
  pursuit of the arcane, and to have it betray him under 
  such dire circumstances was a terrible shock. Even 
  worse, Canifax felt something that night . . . something 
  had descended on him, something intelligent and 
  vengeful, and he resolved never to attract its attention 
  again. So far, he has been true to his word. 
  Current Sketch 
  Canifax has retired to the seclusion of his estate. His 
  only regular associate is his servant, Marcus Luckman, 
  and it would be an exaggeration to call them friends. 
  Though he wouldn’t admit it, Canifax’s withdrawal 
  from the outside world is an attempt to minimize his 
  guilt over his retirement. While his reasons for giving 
  up the practice of magic are genuine, he can’t help but 
  feel like a coward whenever he hears of an incident that 
  could have been prevented with his aid. Minimizing his 
  contact with the world outside lets him pretend that his 
  help is not needed 
  When something happens to disturb his seclusion, 
  Canifax’s reaction is mixed. Outwardly, he is surly and 
  uncooperative, but a small part of him brightens at the 
  chance to be a difference-maker once more. 
  Personality 
  Canifax is not a personable fellow. While he is not 
  completely without tact, he does tend to be direct and 
  brusque in conversation. He also carries himself with a 
  hint of intellectual arrogance that can be off-putting. 
  His stodgy personality is partially offset by the 
  genuine and abiding sense of responsibility he feels 
  toward his fellow man. As a young man, Canifax led a 
  charmed life, and to this day he feels as if he owes 
  something to the world. His alienation from magic has 
  left him without the greatest skill he had to offer, and 
  this has left him feeling like an inadequate shell of what 
  he used to be. Without this outlet, he tries to find other 
  ways to express his feelings of debt, and can be far 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT DENIZENS 
  62 
  more kind and generous than his demeanor would lead 
  one to believe. 
  Combat 
  Although he retains his abilities as a wizard, Canifax 
  does not make frequent use of them any longer. He no 
  longer prepares spells except in unusual circumstances. 
  When he was younger, he preferred subtlety in his spell 
  selection. The schools of abjuration, illusion and 
  divination were his favorite, but he made a point of 
  keeping a few combat spells prepared as a precaution. 
  Should Canifax take up his spellbook again, he 
  would be able to cast five each of 0, 1st, and 2nd level 
  spells, four 3rd level spells, three each of 4th and 5th 
  level spells, and two 6th level spells each day. He will 
  not prepare necromantic spells under any 
  circumstances. 
  As a result of the powers check Canifax failed, 
  whenever he casts a spell with somatic components, roll 
  1d6. On a roll of 1, Canifax’s withered hands were 
  unable to properly execute the required gestures, and 
  the spell fails. He can use the Still Spell feat to 
  circumvent this difficulty. However, all spells he casts 
  with a touch range take effect as if he were one level 
  higher as a wizard. This only works if he makes skin-
  to-skin contact with the target. 
  Because of his current reluctance to use magic, 
  Canifax is not a particularly effective combatant. He 
  has some rudimentary knowledge of hand to hand 
  combat, but not enough to hold his own against a 
  trained fighter. He prefers to talk his way out of trouble 
  when possible, or, better yet, avoid situations where 
  trouble is likely to be found. 
  Using Canifax 
  Canifax can be a wonderful source of knowledge and 
  advice to any wizard or monster hunter, if one can 
  convince him to be forthcoming. He does not usually 
  hesitate to share what he knows of monsters, but he 
  may be disinclined to answer questions of a magical 
  nature. He does not want to encourage anyone down 
  that road. Still, if lives are on the line he will tell what 
  he can. 
  If Canifax’s help is needed in a more tangible 
  nature, things become more difficult. If the heroes are 
  persistent and the cause is worthy they can probably 
  garner his aid, but he will not be pleased and will make 
  them realize it with every word and gesture. He will 
  also make it clear that the characters are now in his 
  debt. 
  ! 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT DENIZENS 
  63 
  THE INTERPRETATION  
  OF DREAMS 
  Four Victims of the Nightmare Court 
  by Freidrich Gothe 
  fgothe@hotmail.com 
   
  FOREWORD BY DR. 
  FREIDRICK LOUIS 
  or the latter half of his life, Dr. Gregorian 
  Illhousen devoted himself entirely to the 
  study of nightmares. He believed that 
  dreams could seep into reality and affect the 
  waking world. He first discovered the phenomenon in 
  patients who were afflicted by terrible nightmares, and 
  what he learned in those initial years lead him to 
  suspect that malevolent, external forces were 
  responsible for their illnesses. The doctor later wrote a 
  journal which unmasked the group of dark entities 
  responsible. Known as the Nightmare Court, these 
  beings had the power to pervert dreams toward their 
  own wicked ends. Dr. Illhousen’s quest to expose and 
  destroy these monsters led him to journey beyond the 
  Mists on more than one occasion to their realm of 
  surreal horror, but seemingly in the end, the darkness 
  claimed him. 
  But the good doctor’s fight is far from finished. 
  Before he left us in 749 B.C., when I had the dubious 
  honor of taking over as head of the clinic, Dr. Illhousen 
  was working on another major piece titled The 
  Interpretation of Dreams. He intended it to be an 
  expansion on his journal, but as a result of massive 
  revisions to the paper as well as his own failing health, 
  The Interpretation of Dreams remained in the shadows 
  for half a decade. 
  Now, with some semblance of sanity returning to 
  the clinic, I am able to present to you Dr. Illhousen’s 
  final disquisition. Following Dr. Illhousen’s own notes, 
  I have assiduously compiled what I think he originally 
  intended for the journal—a series of in-depth patient 
  analyses. Unfortunately, some texts have been 
  damaged, lost, or were simply left unfinished, but I 
  think that what follows will still remain an invaluable 
  resource for those seeking to ward off the darkness. 
  In memoriam somniat, 
  Dr. Freidrick Louis 
  755 B.C. 
  Each of the following chapters of Dr. Illhousen’s 
  treatise serves to develop an NPC for a Nightmare 
  Lands campaign. At the end of each chapter the DM 
  will find roleplaying notes and adventure ideas for each 
  character. Hopefully, they will enrich your campaigns 
  by bringing newer, darker terrors to life for your 
  bedtime stories. 
  CHAPTER ONE: 
  THE CASE OF LIAM Q. 
  Dr. Tasker’s Initial Notes, Liam Q.: 
  atient is extremely morose. He has told me 
  of disgusting fantasies which could only be 
  the result of an unbalanced mind. I 
  recommend advanced electrical shock 
  treatment until further notice. —H.T. 
  F 
  P 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT DENIZENS 
  64 
  Dr. Illhousen’s Initial Notes, Liam Q.: 
  Liam is extremely intelligent and well educated; patient 
  enjoys chess. Admits to a recent suicide attempt. Shows 
  a tendency toward aggressive mood swings (esp. at 
  mention of women). Doubtful case is as bad as T. 
  indicates. (mem. Work on King’s Gambit for Tues.)   
  —G.I. 
  Dr. Illhousen’s Clinical Notes for Nov. 5, 
  747 Patient Name: Liam Q. 
  Chess from eleven till a quarter past noon. Liam is a 
  surprisingly skilled chess player! (mem. Watch for Kn 
  to KR-3 with Q to rank!) After chess, asked about 
  schooling. As expected, the patient became dour. Liam 
  explained he was admitted to the University of Il Aluk 
  two years ago. 
  Studied magic there for a year then transferred to 
  the Academy here in Egertus where he studied alchemy 
  for another year. I asked why he stopped studying 
  magic and his response was that he “wasn’t smart 
  enough.” The patient contends that his intellect is 
  declining in his “old age,” and that he is no longer 
  worthy of studying the Art. Although Liam condemns 
  himself for being an “idiotic laggard,” he is nonetheless 
  very eloquent and at times borders on the grandiose. 
  Liam’s depression likely developed from 
  unfounded feelings of inadequacy and frustration. He 
  exhibits an overwhelming desire for recognition; his 
  suicide attempt followed a series of nightmares which 
  began on the thirteenth of last month (Note: No 
  physical indication of Nightmare Court as of yet; 
  however, I remain suspicious. Hypnos?) —G.I. 
  Patient Record for Liam Q. Nov. 7, 747 
  Liam never misses the opportunity to point out his own 
  shortcomings and “stupidities;” however, despite 
  Liam’s own convictions, my experience shows him to 
  be an exceptionally brilliant individual. With each day 
  that passes I grow more and more fretful over his 
  nightmares. I now have no doubt that Hypnos is feeding 
  on Liam’s feelings of worthlessness. 
  Dr. Tasker’s Prognosis, Liam Q., Nov. 10, 
  747 
  Liam responds well to shock treatment. Patient shows 
  signs of physical wear, but on the whole prospects are 
  auspicious. —H.T. 
  Session #1,Written Transcript Hypno-
  therapy, Liam Q., Nov. 12, 747 
  Dr. Illhousen: I want you to close your eyes and 
  imagine you are walking down a stairwell counting 
  backwards from one hundred. I want you take each step 
  slower than the last and relax, OK Liam? When you 
  reach the bottom, I want you to listen to the sound of 
  my voice, and obey only that sound, understand? Good, 
  now take one step and relax . . . and relax . . . and relax 
  . . . all right . . . You are at the bottom of the stair well 
  now; you are someplace else Liam, and I want you to 
  tell me what you see. 
  Liam Q. (child’s voice): I’m at school. 
  Dr. Illhousen: How old are you, Liam? 
  Liam Q.: Six. 
  Dr. Illhousen: Good. And what’s going on, Liam? 
  Liam Q.: Mrs. Kiesler is giving a penmanship test! 
  I can’t do it! My hands are shaking! What am I going to 
  do? Papa will kill me if I bring home a bad mark! Oh, I 
  should have studied harder! 
  Dr. Illhousen: But you don’t have to worry about 
  that now, Liam. Your hands are steady and firm. They 
  are not shaking and you are not afraid, Liam. 
  Everything will be all right. 
  Liam Q.: No! No, I can’t because he doesn’t want 
  me to pass! 
  Dr. Illhousen: Who? Who, Liam? Who doesn’t 
  want you to pass? 
  Liam Q.: The man in the coffin with the funny 
  eye! He hates me! He’s laughing at me! He says he’s 
  going to tell papa and he’s going to beat me! No, no, 
  no! I don’t want to die! No, Mrs. Kiesler, I’ve been 
  doing my lessons! Really, I did! Please, please don’t 
  yell at me! No, don’t tell my papa I came to school 
  naked! No! Please, Mister, please tell my friends to stop 
  laughing at me! 
  Dr. Illhousen: Don’t listen to him, Liam! Listen to 
  me: those aren’t your friends. Your friends are J.H., 
  E.W., and B.B. They didn’t get into the University, 
  remember? Only you were smart enough. 
  Liam Q.: But they passed! They’re smarter than 
  me! No, no, no! Don’t put me in the coffin with him! 
  No, papa, no! 
  Dr. Illhousen: Wake up! Listen to me Liam, wake 
  up! 
  (End of transcript.) 
  Dr. Tasker’s Clinical Notes, Liam Q., Nov. 
  13, 747 
  Strained a large amount of blood from patient today 
  with leeches to reduce the large amount of black bile 
  patient has been producing. With continued shock 
  therapy Liam’s humors should return to a normal state 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT DENIZENS 
  65 
  of balance; however, if Dr. Illhousen proceeds as he has 
  been, I will have no recourse other than accelerating the 
  shock treatment to cure Liam. 
  Dr. Illhousen’s Notes, Liam Q., Nov. 15, 
  747 
  Ordered Dr. Tasker to cease treatment of patient. 
  Condition worsening. Further sessions have revealed 
  dissatisfaction with social life and a certain degree of 
  misogyny. Often patient’s dreams involve being 
  humiliated in front of females. His dreams have 
  gravitated around two major scenarios. In his most 
  prominent nightmare, Liam dreams he is a child taking 
  some form of examination, but all of his answers are 
  garbled or incoherent. Liam grows frightened and is 
  tempted to cheat off some of the other student’s papers, 
  but the teacher, “Mrs. Kiesler,” patrols the room 
  hawkishly for cheaters. Hypnos appears in this 
  particular nightmare as a man that “looks like a wax 
  statue” and sits behind the teacher’s desk. Hypnos 
  never opens his mouth to speak but rather 
  communicates mentally so that only Liam can hear his 
  silent scolds. Inevitably, the dream scene ends with 
  Mrs. Kiesler catching Liam at cheating. The other 
  children laugh and point at him; then, they overbear 
  him and nail him inside of a coffin which appears 
  before Hypnos. 
  The second of Liam’s reoccurring nightmares 
  involves countless variations on the chess game. Often, 
  the scene is straightforward. Liam plays a game of 
  chess, but no matter how hard he thinks, he is always 
  defeated. On other occasions, Liam is the King and he 
  must command other human pieces around the board. 
  Recently, I tried to stop a particular variation of this 
  scenario wherein I am the one mercilessly defeating 
  Liam in each game. I entered the dream with the intent 
  of losing to Liam, but to my horror the chess pieces 
  grew to an enormous size and proceeded to attack us. 
  In my next session with Liam I will try to attack his 
  problem from a new angle. It has been my experience 
  that intelligent people are exceptionally agile in the 
  dream world even if they are normally clumsy. 
  Likewise, strong willed individuals tend to become 
  physically robust. Perhaps I do not need to get Liam to 
  pass any tests of intellect. If I can convince him of the 
  correlation between his intelligence and his physical 
  prowess in the dream world, then I might be able to 
  cure him. 
  Session #2, Written Transcript Hypno-
  therapy (Fragment), Liam Q., Nov. 19, 747 
  Dr. Illhousen: All right, Liam, where are you? 
  Liam Q. (child’s voice): I’m in my room. It’s 
  nighttime, but there’s a lantern in the hall . . . I think I 
  hear my mommy . . . And . . . someone else . . . a man. 
  Dr. Illhousen: Can you see him? 
  Liam Q.: No, I can only see his back . . . wait . . . 
  he’s got a belt! Wait! No, you’re hurting my mommy! 
  Dr. Illhousen: Run to her! Save your mother, 
  Liam! 
  Liam Q.: No, I can’t! He’ll grab me! I—I can’t 
  move! The man in the coffin’s in my room! He says 
  papa’s beating mommy because of my bad mark! No, 
  no, I’ll do it! I’ll pass, I’ll pass! I promise! 
  Dr. Illhousen: Don’t listen to him! You can move! 
  You just have to want to! You are quick Liam—you are 
  very, very quick! You can get past him! 
  Liam Q.: No, I can’t! The man says you’re the one 
  beating my mommy! He wants me to kill you! No, Dr. 
  Illhousen’s a nice man! Yes, he’s smarter than me! No! 
  I don’t want to hurt anybody! 
  Dr. Illhousen: Go to your mother, Liam! Go to 
  her! 
  Liam Q.: Dr. Illhousen’s killing mommy! He’s 
  hurting her! Make him stop make him stop make him 
  stop! I’m not going to! 
  Dr. Illhousen’s Note: Patient fell unconscious. 
  Was unable to wake patient from hypnosis after he 
  began gagging and screaming. Has possibly contributed 
  to worsening of current condition. Alternate methods of 
  treatment? Unknown. 
  (End of transcript.) 
  Last Document concerning Liam Q. 
  Liam, human male, W3: AC 10; MV 12; hp 7; 
  THAC0 20; #AT 1; Dmg 1d2 (fists); SA spells; SD 
  spells; SZ M (5’9”); ML average (10); Str 9, Dex 11, 
  Con 10, Int 12, Wis 13, Cha 7; AL CG 
  Description: Depressive, Childish 
  Short and pudgy, Liam resembles an ink bottle 
  with narrow facial features. He has detectable scars 
  along his right cheek and speaks with a thick Darkonese 
  accent. Under most circumstances he is relatively 
  normal, but he may become depressed if he meets 
  anyone he perceives to be smarter than himself. He is 
  very shy around women. 
  Liam presents a good vehicle for a “think-tank” 
  adventure. In one scenario, the heroes may find 
  themselves playing the roll of school children taking a 
  test. The teacher’s desk is decorated with a macabre, 
  rotten apple, and Hypnos silently gazes on the class as 
  Mrs. Kiesler paces the room searching for “cheaters.” 
  Liam sits in the center of the room, crying. The heroes 
  must not only find a way to evade the teacher and 
  vicious tattle-tales, but must also help Liam pass his 
  exam (i.e. a puzzle of the DM’s own machinations). 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT DENIZENS 
  66 
  To vary the scenario, the DM might plan 
  alternative dreamscapes where the dreamers are in 
  Liam’s room as his mother is being assaulted, but 
  Hypnos guards the door. The heroes know that they 
  must prove young Liam has learned his “lessons” 
  before they can rush to the rescue. 
  CHAPTER TWO: 
  THE CASE OF FENCH 
  t was during the summer of 748 B.C., after a 
  particularly draining bout with a patient of 
  mine, that Dr. Louis suggested that I take a 
  leave of absence. Although I was loath to 
  leave my work at the clinic, Dr. Louis assured me that I 
  had little cause to worry and that he could run the clinic 
  smoothly until my return in the fall. I resisted the idea 
  for sometime, but in truth I knew I had no reason to 
  argue the point. My health was failing me, and I was 
  clearly developing an overwrought temperament. The 
  prospect of a vacation was not unappealing to my 
  fancy, and the recent discharge of my last patient had 
  left me with little to do. Yet, I think were it not for the 
  shear severity of my infirmity, I never would have 
  consented to the leave. Over time, however, I managed 
  convince myself otherwise, and grudgingly packed a 
  few belongings for the respite. 
  I decided on vacationing in the sunny vales of 
  Barovia. To reassure my conscience, I brought along a 
  few notes to continue my research into dreams during 
  my stay. I was fortunate enough to find a small, out of 
  the way cottage for rent from the Burgomaster of a near 
  by village. The place was cozy enough. It had all the 
  pleasantries of home including some rather extravagant 
  cushions and furs, but after a week I found that these 
  luxuries did little to sooth my yearning to return to 
  work. Although I had grown fond of the pleasant people 
  of the town, I would have packed my things and headed 
  back to Nova Vaasa had I not the chance to meet a man 
  with a most peculiar disturbance. 
  In keeping with the normal confidences of 
  physician and patient, I will refer to our subject as 
  “Fench.” The thing that struck me the most when I first 
  met Fench was his tremendous size. A robust Barovian 
  with barrel size forearms, Fench towered at over six 
  foot, three inches tall—well above most average men. 
  He had a thick, black mustache, a jolly love of 
  merriment, and was widely reputed to be the strongest 
  man in all of Barovia. I may even say he was a celebrity 
  within the village. 
  I finally had the occasion to meet Fench on formal, 
  though inauspicious, terms one evening when his wife 
  brought him to my cottage. Taking me aside, she told 
  me that for the past few days Fench had been acting 
  like a madman. He thrashed violently about in his sleep, 
  threw wild fits of anger, and displayed numerous 
  symptoms of a wasting disease. The woman seemed 
  quite worried that her dear Fench was suffering from 
  some manner of plague; so, she brought him to me for 
  fear that the other villagers would cast out Fench and 
  her. I assured the woman of her wise decision and 
  agreed to see her husband. 
  I was stunned to say the least by his appearance. 
  What I saw before me was surely some sort of 
  apparition! The man I imagined a giant stood before my 
  very eyes in the luxury of my cottage like a wasted 
  frame of bone and wire. His eyes were sunken too 
  deeply inside his skull, graying pools of watery flesh 
  sagged over the dull, vanquished sockets of his face, 
  and an altogether anemic air clouded about him like 
  some sort of black pestilence. 
  After regaining my composure I politely asked 
  Fench if he would like a seat. Suddenly, he began to 
  thrash and flail violently while screaming at the top of 
  his lungs. Despite his appearance, Fench still possessed 
  a primal strength that made me fear for my very life. He 
  could easily crush a man’s skull with his powerful 
  hands, and I thought he might do just that until his wife, 
  cringing in fright as well, screamed for him to stop. 
  Suddenly, he fell into an obsequious stoop and 
  began to whine like a newborn pup. Were there not 
  something intrinsically sinister—indeed perverse—
  about this behavior, I might have laughed at the 
  ludicrousness of the situation. I gazed pensively at his 
  wife who nodded permissively for me to continue. 
  I approached more cautiously this time. I asked 
  Fench if he would mind me examining him, and he 
  said, “No” in a groveling and pathetic tone. As I looked 
  him over, Fench did not once look at me. He stood 
  perfectly still and whimpered like a scared animal 
  although I think I had more cause to be frightened than 
  he. Occasionally, Fench would utter a high-pitched 
  laugh like a tickled little girl or coo like a babe during 
  the examination. 
  As I could determine no imbalance in Fench’s 
  humors, I asked his wife to leave him with me 
  overnight (my intention being to observe him as he 
  slept). She readily complied and looked forward to 
  seeing him in the morning. 
  Already I was beginning to suspect this was work 
  of the Nightmare Court. I observed Fench as planned, 
  and throwing off myself the heavy coils of sluggishness 
  that already threatened to drown me in the same realm 
  of nightmares into which Fench had certainly drifted, I 
  settled into my leather chair. 
  For the first few hours he tossed and turned 
  struggling with bouts of breathlessness. His body 
  shuttered against the terrors of the night in that little 
  dark room whose wicker chairs and trussed ceiling were 
  I 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT DENIZENS 
  67 
  lit only by candlelight. Several hours later Fench began 
  to convulse and choke scratchily. I trembled—watching 
  as his skin lightened and withered. 
  Suddenly, Fench’s eyes flew wide open, and before 
  I had time to react, I felt a hot sting in my right shoulder 
  followed by a warm sensation all over my body. I found 
  myself knocked clear of the chair, reeling upon the 
  floor. My mind became blurred with terror, and I flew, 
  stumbling into the darkness of the living room. Fench’s 
  massive shadow shambled after me. I heard his thick 
  rasping as his shape loomed up from the darkness. In 
  one swift, mechanical motion, Fench drew high a gory 
  meat cleaver, and I raised my hands in feeble defense. 
  My only instinct was to scream his name. Then, I heard 
  a whimper, and when I realized I was not dead I drew 
  the taper near. He was curled on the floor next to a 
  puddle of green goo. 
  My mind was still whirling from the attack. I 
  wondered where the cleaver had come from. I believe I 
  knew the answer, but I was terrified to search for the 
  weapon for I had the distinct impression that it had 
  slithered away. A few moments later and Fench began 
  frothing at the mouth. After I cleaned him up we sat 
  down to some tea. Neither of us was thinking clearly. 
  He was weaker now than before—a clear indication of 
  the court’s influence. His wife needed some soothing, 
  but I was able to reassure her. 
  Over the course of that day I discovered that Fench 
  had two distinct ways of reacting to any situation. 
  Sometimes he will grovel and become utterly 
  obsequious; at other times, he begins to yell at the top 
  of his lungs. He does not do this in random bouts of 
  anger. He is mad. Fench could not bear the pressure of 
  being proclaimed “the strongest man in Barovia.” He 
  felt he could not rise to the expectations of the village 
  and his reservations antagonized him to such a degree 
  that they eventually drove him insane. 
  At first Fench perceived himself to be weak despite 
  all evidence to the contrary, but as the disease 
  progressed the madness became more pronounced. 
  Over the course of a few weeks, Fench began to think 
  he was becoming fat and stocky, and ultimately, he 
  came to imagine himself as a three-inch high dwarf. 
  Fench’s misconception of his tiny size is the cause of 
  his bizarre behavior. He is terrified of the “big people” 
  that surround him, and he is convinced that his voice is 
  inaudible due to his exceedingly small size. 
  I treated Fench for a considerable length of time. I 
  entered into his dreams and helped him through the 
  trials of Morpheus. Every nightmare seemed less 
  coherent than the last. Some nights we found ourselves 
  at the edge of a cliff trying to hoist the entire Village of 
  Barovia with only the two of us pulling at the frayed 
  rope. Other nights we found ourselves in a blank 
  landscape where children would approach Fench and 
  ask him to perform ridiculous feats of strength such as 
  bending an iron spike or lifting a house or even a 
  mountain. Men with enormous strength would appear 
  from nowhere to accomplish what Fench could not. The 
  nightmares did all they could to torture Fench, but in 
  the end he proved stronger than them all. 
  “Fench”, 0-level human male: AC 10; MV 12; hp 12; 
  THAC0 20; #AT 1; Dmg 1d2 (fists); SZ M (6’3”); ML 
  average (10); Str 18, Dex 10, Con 16, Int 8, Wis 4, Cha 
  13; AL NG. 
  Personality: Loud, Obsequious 
  The fate of Fench is left purposefully ambiguous so 
  that DMs wishing to use him as an NPC for a 
  Nightmare Lands campaign can do so. Until his 
  delusions are cured, Fench, thinking no one can hear 
  him, yells everything at the top of his lungs. He is 
  incredibly obsequious, even morbidly so, and follows 
  any orders or demands sheepishly. 
  Although potential does exist for a suitably horrific 
  scenario, an adventure to save Fench from the clutches 
  of Morpheus could provide an excellent comic relief 
  after a series of grim adventures. The nightmares Fench 
  suffers from are ridiculous in the extreme and 
  conceivably need not make any sense. The heroes 
  might find that in order to save Fench they must help 
  him hoist the children out of the canyon, but screaming 
  dwarves begin to fall from the sky and attempt to weigh 
  down the load. In other scenes a player may find that it 
  is his own character that must be pulled from the 
  canyon before he plummets into the churning darkness 
  below. Alternatively, Fench could merely appear as a 
  comic relief in another adventure in which he is not the 
  main character. 
  DMs who still wish to use Fench towards a more 
  macabre end should highlight his physical strength. 
  PC’s may make excursions into horrible nightmares 
  while at the same time also have to be wary of an 
  increasingly psychotic Fench who could crush their 
  skulls with ease. 
  CHAPTER THREE: 
  THE CASE OF EMILY 
  Excerpt From the Rough Draft of Dr. 
  Illhousen’s Unfinished Paper 
  Entitled, Dreams of the Disturbed. 
  uring the course of my research, I have seen 
  many good people succumb to illnesses of 
  the mind. Of these lonesome, terrible, 
  pathetic souls, few hold my interest as well 
  D 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT DENIZENS 
  68 
  as “the disturbed.” Disturbed patients suffer from a 
  unique form of madness; they are driven insane by 
  nightmares forced upon them by a group I call the 
  Nightmare Court. As with any “disease” each case 
  progresses in relatively the same fashion; however, 
  cases which diverge markedly from the norm do occur. 
  “Emily” was one case who departed considerably 
  from the expected. In most instances, the disturbed 
  slowly descend into dementia as a result of the stress 
  placed upon them by the Nightmare Court, but in 
  Emily’s case the opposite was true. Emily embraced her 
  nightmares. 
  Before proceeding, allow me to begin with a short 
  history. As of the publication of this paper, Emily 
  would be nineteen years old. She was born to an 
  impoverished family in Kantora and was the first of 
  three children. Her younger brother, Edward would be 
  age five, and her sister, Faylen, would be age six. At the 
  time of Emily’s birth her family was not as 
  misfortunate as the majority of Kantora’s citizens. Her 
  father had a job as a watchman and made barely enough 
  money to house and feed the family, but when Emily’s 
  younger sister was born, a serious financial strain was 
  placed on the house. They moved into a squalid 
  tenement where they were barely able to pay rent and 
  lived mostly on refuse. A year later when Edward was 
  born, Emily’s father had lost his job as a watchman as 
  well as several others. The family was barely able to 
  clothe the children at this point, and food was becoming 
  a luxury. Emily’s father became an alcoholic and 
  quickly absorbed what little savings the family had to 
  feed his habit. Emily was now fifteen years old, and in 
  the all too common custom of the city, she moved out 
  and sold her body to the night. 
  Emily’s prostitution did little to revive the dying 
  family. Most what she earned was wasted on her 
  father’s habit. Her mother and two younger siblings 
  were on the verge of being thrown out to starve in the 
  cold until her father got another job. For the next two 
  years the family managed to survive, but once more 
  Emily’s father lost his job due to alcoholism. Also 
  about this time, Emily’s mother contracted the 
  consumption. The mother and children were thrown out 
  into the streets. Soon thereafter another blow was 
  landed to the family when Emily’s father turned up 
  murdered. Emily’s mother fed the children by begging 
  in the streets. The children suffered abuse at the hands 
  of Emily’s mother. She died a year later along with 
  Faylen who had also contracted the consumption. I do 
  not know what became of Edward; Emily refuses to 
  speak of his fate, and in any case, I am sure it is hardly 
  an uplifting tale. 
  In the months following the death of her mother, 
  Emily began having her first nightmares. The first 
  nightmare occurred after a customer had departed. She 
  dreamt of waking up next to him filled with disgust. 
  She said the room was swarming with rainbow-hued 
  snakes that spoke to her. The serpents told Emily to kill 
  the man; Emily’s anger allowed her to give in easily. 
  Emily was able to find revenge in her dreams, but she 
  was unaware that she was doing far more than acting 
  out a morbid fantasy. The dreams turned to nightmares 
  the night she did not wake up after butchering a 
  customer. 
  The victim’s name was Marlin G. He was a wife 
  beater and an usurer. 
  Emily dragged the body into an ally and left it 
  there. She tried to stop the dreams, but after the murder, 
  the nightmares only intensified. Emily tried to resist the 
  urge to kill, but the bloodlust was unbearable. She 
  wandered in a dream-like state for weeks unable to 
  distinguish between the nightmares and reality. After a 
  time, Emily thought she had gone completely mad. She 
  decided nothing was real and gave in to her murderous 
  impulses. In Kantora the string of butcheries was 
  credited to Malken, a local legendary monster known 
  for perpetrating savage murders. Emily made her way 
  to Egertus where she was finally arrested. 
  At the time, I was working with a patient named 
  Krystal who was under the influence of the Rainbow 
  Serpent, a member of the Nightmare Court. When I 
  heard of Emily, I recognized the work of the Serpent 
  immediately, and I arranged to treat her regularly. Since 
  then, Dr. Tasker and I have been able to receive Emily 
  on a weekly basis to receive treatment. 
  Dr. Illhousen’s Clinical Notes, Apr. 11, 747 
  Today, I think I may have found the cause of Emily’s 
  nightmares. Emily decided to tell me about the fate of 
  her brother. As it turns out, she left Edward alone to 
  starve to death in the streets. She wept on my shoulder 
  for a very long time after she admitted this to me, and I 
  think it did her good. 
  I think Rainbow Serpent has chosen Emily because 
  the roles of betrayal are reversed. Instead of feeling 
  horribly betrayed, Emily is struggling with the guilt of 
  betraying her own brother. The Rainbow Serpent seized 
  the opportunity to destroy Emily and those who 
  confided in her. —G.I. 
  Dr. Illhousen’s Clinical Notes, Emily, 
  Apr. 11, 747 
  Patient still responds with difficulty to treatment. 
  Condition slowly worsening. The nightmares have 
  taken and odd turn. Now the dreams revolve around 
  strange, phantasmagoric weddings. This turn of events 
  has left me quite confused, for as far as I can tell, these 
  dreams have no nightmarish content. 
  On a slightly related note, Sylus and I shall shortly 
  be taking a voyage which may benefit my patients—
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT DENIZENS 
  69 
  Emily in particular. Dr. Tasker will take over in my 
  absence. —G.I. 
  Dr. Tasker’s Clinical Notes, Emily, Apr. 
  18-May 13, 747 
  I have returned the patient to more conventional 
  methods of treatment. The shock therapy is beginning 
  to erase the perverse and immoral proclivities of the 
  subject. As I suspected, my treatment has almost 
  entirely ceased the patient’s nightmares, and with any 
  luck, surgery will not be necessary. —H.T. 
  Dr. Illhousen’s Personal Notes, Emily, 
  May 20, 747 
  I have read Dr. Tasker’s clinical notes concerning the 
  treatment of Emily while I was away, and I am 
  thoroughly outraged by his irresponsibility. Tasker may 
  have very well destroyed any hope of Emily recovering. 
  She may even slip deeper into isolation. Gods forbid if 
  Emily begins to lash out in her nightmares once more! I 
  wish there were some grounds on which I could have 
  that madman arrested, but for now I will merely have to 
  settle for removing him from this case. —G.I. 
  Dr. Illhousen’s Clinical Notes, Emily, 
  May 24, 747 
  As I expected, Emily has receded into a shell; however, 
  I managed to get her to speak to me under hypnosis. 
  During our session, she began to have a dream. It began 
  much like the dreams of weddings she had just prior to 
  my departure. The ceremony took place in a gloomy, 
  forested area with a number of guests who I did not 
  recognize. Emily played the role of the bride, and 
  curiously a local young gentleman played the part of 
  groom. The moment the priest ordained the marriage, 
  Emily grew snake fangs and bit into her husband’s face. 
  She drained him to a husk. I could not bear to hear any 
  more. 
  The guards at the prison tell me that Emily makes 
  quite a racked at night; she screams so loud that the 
  entire prison wakes up. She has been confined to an 
  isolated cell, and according to the guards, she has been 
  sleepwalking and frothing at the mouth. She even 
  managed to put out the eye of a fellow inmate; 
  everyone seems afraid of her. —G.I. 
  Dr. Illhousen’s Personal Notes, Emily, 
  Jun. 1, 747 
  Gossip has taken over the town. Six promising young 
  gentlemen have been found brutally slain on the eve of 
  their weddings over the past week. The people fear 
  Malken, but I know—I know—Emily is responsible! 
  I did not want to believe myself at first, but the 
  truth has become undeniable. The first death occurred 
  on day of my return session with Emily. A newly wed, 
  Wilfred Montgomery, died from a neck wound. A day 
  later another newly wed turned up murdered in the 
  same fashion. I began to make the connection once the 
  gossip finally reached the clinic. I visited the graves of 
  the deceased, and to my horror I recognized them from 
  Emily’s descriptions in her dreams! I begged Emily to 
  prove to me my suspicions were false, but her silence 
  admitted guilt. 
  What am I to do? Turn her in? Preposterous! I 
  cannot even be certain she realizes the extent of her 
  powers. But if she does and if she embraces them as 
  wholeheartedly as she has in the past, she could 
  exercise her talents to strike at people at anyone. 
  Nothing could stop her . . . nothing. —G.I. 
  “Emily,” human female, T3: AC 10; MV 12; hp 16; 
  THAC0 19; #AT 1; Dmg 1d4 (razor); SZ M (5’5”); ML 
  unsteady (6); Str 6, Dex 12, Con 10, Int 9, Wis 10, Cha 
  11; AL CN 
  Thief Abilities: PP 40% OL 33% F/RT 30% MS 
  27% HS 20% HN 15% CW 87% RL 0% 
  Personality: Cynical, Sarcastic 
  Emily is small girl now in her mid-twenties. Her 
  hair is shoulder-length, curly, and light brown. She is 
  marked by her cherubic features and vicious wit; 
  however, this rough exterior is betrayed by her sad, 
  green eyes. Before she came to the clinic she always 
  concealed a small straight razor in her garter. 
  Although Emily goes to great trouble to keep 
  people at arms’ distance, she truly wants nothing more 
  than to be accepted and loved. She has suffered abuse 
  for many years, and the experience has scared her for 
  life. She has trouble trusting anyone and is very erratic 
  in her behavior patterns. She has a grudge against the 
  whole world. 
  Emily treads an extremely fine line between 
  Chaotic Good and Chaotic Evil. As a result, the DM 
  may find that she works well as villain and equally well 
  as a tragic figure. As a villain the DM can play up her 
  callous nature and hatred for men. She may have 
  mastered the ability to draw people into her dreams 
  where she then plays a “black widow” role and seduces 
  men to their doom. Anyone she has met can be a target 
  for her revenge. On the other hand, Emily may be 
  depicted as a tragic figure succumbing to impulses and 
  powers beyond her control. In this scenario, each night 
  when she sleeps the Rainbow Serpent draws people she 
  loves into her nightmares where she finds herself 
  overwhelmed by her need for revenge and kills them. 
  Emily will slowly be driven insane for she knows that  
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT DENIZENS 
  70 
  every time she sleeps someone she cares for will die. 
  The Rainbow Serpent hopes that Emily will eventually 
  commit suicide. 
  If heroes hope to free Emily from the clutches of 
  the Nightmare Court, they will have to do more than 
  just enter into her dreams. Before any progress can be 
  made, they have to make Emily feel wanted. This is a 
  task easier said than done, however. Emily is a lost soul 
  and redeeming her may be a far more daunting task 
  than any they have ever undertaken. 
  CHAPTER FOUR: 
  THE CASE OF REYMOND S. 
  Excerpt from Dr. Illhousen’s 
  Unfinished Paper on Reymond S. 
  ince his arrival at the clinic one year ago, 
  Reymond has been my most enigmatic 
  patient. We received him on the night of 
  October the third during a terrible storm, 
  which claimed the lives of seven good men and women. 
  It is a marvel we heard Reymond at all, and were it not 
  for the eerie tranquility of the lunatics that night, I 
  doubt we ever would have discovered him. 
  Reymond was then even as he is now—a riddle. He 
  wore the clothes of a wealthy merchant or noble, yet 
  they were in an incredible state of disrepair. I 
  considered that he may be a rogue of some sort, but my 
  intuition told me otherwise. We searched for some 
  identifying insignia, but were unable to produce 
  anything. No less puzzling was the question of how he 
  managed to reach the clinic in the storm, for as we soon 
  discovered, Reymond was unable to move or speak. 
  Later I found that Reymond’s disability was not 
  due to any disease of the body, but rather the result of a 
  mind devastated by trauma. I have only rarely seen this 
  particular form of madness, and never have I found a 
  case as sever as Reymond S. 
  Dr. Illhousen’s Private Notes on 
  Reymond S., Undated. 
  Attempts at communicating with Reymond S. 
  unfruitful. Reymond’s scrawls are mostly unintelligible 
  though a few have proven insightful. Otherwise, 
  Reymond is completely reticent except for that 
  disturbing leer he sometimes manages to muster when 
  accidents occur. (Note: F. and several others report 
  dreaming of Reymond. Could he be somehow related to 
  the Nightmare Court? Very doubtful. He has no 
  symptoms of disturbance. Nevertheless, something 
  unsettles me about him.) —G.I. 
  Letter, Dr. Illhousen to Dr. Morgenstern, 
  Prof. of Ancient Languages, University of 
  Il Aluk, Sept. 749 
  Old friend, a long time has passed since we have last 
  spoken, but I write you on a matter concerning the well 
  being of one of my patients. You have no doubt heard 
  of the case of Reymond S. For the past few weeks, 
  Reymond has been displaying some peculiar behavior, 
  and for the first time he has written something 
  intelligible! Were I less fortunate and never have met 
  you, I might have dismissed the phrases as nonsense, 
  but I recognized the ancient Darkonese tongue 
  immediately. I have included a transcript of Reymond’s 
  writing in the hopes that you will translate it for me and 
  return it posthaste. 
  effusio lucis 
  somnambulo sumque 
  emersi de umbris 
  et in tenebras mergeti 
  lemures somniferas metu 
  Sincerely, 
  Gregorian 
  P.S. Jonathan, I think I am breaking through to 
  him. Please let us put behind the past. I ask you not 
  only as a doctor but as a friend. I have missed you so. 
  Letter, Dr. Morgenstern to Dr. Illhousen, 
  Physician, Clinic for the Mentally 
  Distressed, Oct. 749 
  Greetings! I have waited such a long time to hear from 
  you, Gregorian. I was acting like a child, old friend, and 
  I hope you will accept my apology. I should have 
  written you instead, but pride is my better. I have no 
  excuse for my behavior and am eager to get on with our 
  friendship. 
  Here is the translation you requested: 
  I am the purging of light and the sleepwalker. I 
  emerged from the shadows and plunged myself 
  into darkness. Nightmares and sleep-bringers are 
  my custodians. 
  Write soon, 
  Jonathan 
  S 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT DENIZENS 
  71 
  From Dr. Illhousen’s Personal Journal 
  The staff grows even more restless. I had thought with 
  the retirement of Madeline peace would come to the 
  clinic, but the nurses claim they have seen “a thing” 
  crawling in the darkness and slithering about our halls. I 
  think I believe them. I have experienced it myself, for I 
  have often heard its dreadful squeal creep softly to my 
  ear whilst I lay in bed. And when I am able to muster 
  the courage to open my eyes, I have seen it—
  Reymond’s face leering at me through the crack in the 
  door—ugly, malicious, horrible . . . I have hoped to see 
  a nurse with him or some warm presence to explain his 
  movement, but I know there is no one. There is only 
  Reymond and the surreal, phantasmagoric slithering of 
  his body as he passes on into the shadows. I fear the 
  answer to this terrible riddle lies beneath the surface of 
  Reymond’s inscription. 
  Letter, Dr. Illhousen to Dr. Heinfroth, 
  Physician, Home for the Mentally Ill, 
  Dec. 749 
  I am pleased to hear from you once more, Dr. 
  Heinfroth, but quite frankly I am surprised at your 
  inquest. I had no idea that Reymond S. interested one as 
  esteemed as yourself. To say the least, I will be 
  delighted to inform you of all I have uncovered up to 
  this point. 
  I have come under the impression that the cause of 
  Reymond’s affliction may be the result of something     
  . . . external. I cannot describe the effect his presence 
  has upon a person. There seems to be an air about him 
  that crawls over the skin and rankles the senses. 
  I have included with this letter a journal, which I 
  compiled some years ago now. It chronicles my 
  exploits with a sinister form of madness that I think a 
  man of your breadth will find most enlightening. 
  Reymond, I believe, has some connection with my 
  research. I cannot place it yet, but others of my patients 
  have said he has appeared in their dreams; for this 
  reason, I think he has somehow mastered the power to 
  dreamwalk. If I can somehow break through to him and 
  unravel the secrets of his mind, I may be able to 
  uncover more weaknesses in the Nightmare Court’s 
  defenses and have them done for good. 
  Sincerely, 
  Dr. Gregorian Illhousen 
  P.S.: Thank you for your offer to help treat 
  Reymond, but I must decline. I am managing well with 
  him, and I fear that the transport may be a strain on his 
  health. 
  Dr. Illhousen’s Personal Notes on 
  Reymond S. 
  Patient does not respond to hypnotism. I desperately 
  questioned him on the meaning of that dreaded 
  inscription he insists on writing over and over again. No 
  avail. I should know better. I handed him a quill and 
  paper demanding that he write. How silly! I demanded 
  he tell me what manner of beast he may be. Am I losing 
  my mind? I looked down at the paper and scrawled 
  upon it was one word—Madeline! Reymond sat 
  ghoulishly crumpled in the chair. Grinning that thin, 
  horrid, grotesque smile—more horrid and grotesque 
  than the maw of death! I struck him. Heaven forgive 
  my poor soul, I threw him from the chair only to find 
  that thing rising before me in the darkness. 
  From Dr. Illhousen’s Personal Journal 
  By all the good gods in heaven! He—Reymond—has 
  vanished. I have been in poor health for the last few 
  days and during this time I have had some amazing, 
  feverish dreams. I do not know at all if this is truth or 
  the fabrications of a temporary lunacy brought on by 
  the fever, but I shall with all hast recount Reymond’s 
  story as he told it to me in my dreams. 
  “You seek to know me, Dr. Illhousen. The answers 
  I hold have seduced you . . . Very well, I shall unravel 
  them for you. 
  “I was not a normal child. I possessed remarkable 
  talents. I could do anything to which I applied myself. 
  When I was five, I performed music at one of Darkon’s 
  royal balls and was commended by Lord Azalin 
  himself. People adored and envied me. I was expected 
  to attend the University, and I did. I hated it there. I did 
  not have the same ambitions as my family. I found 
  academia profoundly nauseating and the nobility utterly 
  boorish. So, I became a cook. It was quite an incident. 
  Everyone close to me reproached my decision and said 
  that I was an appalling waste of talent. 
  “I worked for a noble family who paid me with 
  room and board. I was very happy. They had a son, 
  Leopold, who I cherished. I adored playing with him in 
  the evenings after dinner. He was such a delightful 
  child, and I loved him as I would love a brother. 
  “But in all of that time I never admitted to myself 
  the real reason I became a cook. You see, doctor, I am 
  lazy. I could have done anything. I could have helped 
  hundreds with a scalpel or delighted centuries with a 
  chord. Yet, I thought too much would be required of 
  me. 
  “But I digress. There was a shed in the back of the 
  house. It was rusty, worn, shabby, and rotten. Every 
  timber was falling apart, but young Master Leopold 
  became accustomed to playing there. Once the Lord 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT DENIZENS 
  72 
  and Lady heard, they ordered me to take down the 
  shack, but I procrastinated. A few days later I saw him 
  go into the shed. I heard a scream, and I rushed to him. 
  I found young Leopold with a broken neck. A rotten 
  ceiling beam lay at his side. 
  “I was horrified. Poor Lord Simon, how I wish I 
  could have told thee of my sorrow! How I wished to be 
  punished. I wanted nothing more than to trade places 
  with Leopold, but I could do nothing. I stared 
  impotently at my deed for what seemed an eternity, and 
  when I finally came to my senses, I realized I was 
  paralyzed. Something had transfixed me. I suddenly 
  found myself viewing the macabre sight from a 
  perverse angle as if I actually had exchanged places 
  with the boy. Then I saw the thing for the first time. It 
  did not manifest itself in any rational fashion; I could 
  best describe it as a visage or insinuation that had 
  settled over the child. The experience was strange and 
  phantasmagoric. There was nothing but the insidious 
  revulsion of that face and that neck and those little 
  twisted legs. Then I saw monstrous black tentacles 
  suffuse across Leopold’s body and slowly drag him in 
  to the darkness. 
  “Neither my mind nor body has ever fully 
  recovered since that day. For all these years I have been 
  isolated from the world. This is the curse I have visited 
  upon myself. It is a death within a death. Guilt 
  overcame me, and purged the light from my heart. 
  “But the guilt eventually gave way to nightmares. I 
  saw the Ghost Dancer for the first time three nights 
  after I had been committed to a hospice. I fell in love 
  with her. How sad she was when she danced! Those 
  little limbs and delicate strides possessed my heart and 
  enchanted my soul! I could escape to her show each 
  night in my dreams. She was the one beautiful thing 
  among all that was terrible in the world, and she danced 
  for me alone. 
  “But by day she was a ghost; an evanescent 
  memory that left me alone with only thoughts of her 
  returning. Every waking hour was possessed with her 
  image. I was tormented by thoughts of her bruised 
  body, of her swollen neck, and her dark eyes. Finally, 
  the loneliness became unbearable. 
  I decided to approach her at the end of the next 
  show and profess my love. But then I noticed some one 
  else at the performance. The night was ruined. I 
  couldn’t get my mind off him. I lost my nerve. I tried to 
  speak to her the next night, but he was there again. 
  Soon, others came to the performance as well. The 
  dances became a mockery of my life at the Simon 
  Manor; the show ended each night with the protagonist 
  becoming crippled and then being carted away. The 
  audience always laughed. I wanted to kill all of them. I 
  wanted them to go away, but above all I wanted the 
  Ghost Dancer to love me. 
  The dances made me sick with guilt, but over time 
  I built up the nerve to meet her. I walked to her room at 
  the end of a long, dark hall. Her room bore a peculiar 
  resemblance to the Simon Manor. She received me in 
  the den. I tried talking to her, but she did not utter a 
  sound. She seemed frightened of me. I kept trying to 
  make her talk until we heard her son crying. He was 
  walking down the stairs, perhaps just waking from a 
  nightmare. I never saw the boy in full, for she would 
  always rush to his side and swoop him up into her arms 
  before I could get a clear look at him. Then I would 
  wake up. I was disappointed to learn of her son. A 
  child? I thought. That must mean she has a husband too. 
  He must be the reason for her bruises. 
  I spent the next few nights trying to convince the 
  Ghost Dancer to run away with me, but the child 
  always interrupted. I came to hate him. Then one night I 
  did not awaken when her son called for her. I saw the 
  young boy grabbing at her back and leaving a bloody 
  palm print. Then its ugly little head peaked over its 
  mother’s shoulder. It was Master Leopold! I rushed to 
  my love’s side and pried the two apart. The disgusting 
  demon rushed at me with foul, rotten teeth, but I broke 
  off a chair leg and snapped his neck. 
  Guilt swamped me. I was left there to look at my 
  deed once more and feel the horror. The Ghost Dancer 
  rushed to his side and began to cry hysterically as I 
  dumbly gazed on my deed. 
  But it did not end. I did not wake up. Her whining 
  was creeping into my skin. Her curses and 
  condemnations swept over me like a tide. I struck her. 
  She turned pleadingly at me and begged that I leave her 
  be. But I knew she would not love me. A fierce rage 
  overcame me and I choked her to death. My arms 
  became strong and powerful. Bruises welled up on her 
  cheeks, and when I was finished, I awoke weeping. But 
  I could not even cry. For nights this continued, but I 
  learned to control myself in time. I learned to resist the 
  unnatural compulsions she filled me with. I learned to 
  overcome myself. 
  I won my battle, and now battles are all I have to 
  fight. In time I learned how to force myself to dream 
  and then eventually how to pass into the dreams of 
  others. I vowed to make up for my sin, so now, very 
  much like you, my good doctor, I walk in the realm of 
  sleepers and nightmares and bear the candle of hope. I 
  have plunged into the darkness and learned much about 
  what you call the Nightmare Court. How little you do 
  know, Dr. Illhousen. You have looked hard for the 
  answers, doctor, but you have found none. Tomorrow I 
  shall be gone. It wants to move on. You ask what it is? I 
  do not know. I am at the mercy of its whims. Perhaps it 
  was not chance that brought us together, Dr. Illhousen. 
  Good-bye now, my good friend, for in the morning I am 
  gone, and this shall all be nothing more than a curious, 
  little, dream.” 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT DENIZENS 
  73 
  Reymond S., 0-level human male: AC 10; MV 0; hp 
  6; THAC0 20; #AT 0; Dmg N/A; SZ M (5’11”); ML 
  N/A; Str —, Dex —, Con 8, Int 18, Wis 17, Cha 13; AL 
  CG. 
  Personality: Mysterious, Sinister 
  Reymond’s Dream Self, human male, F5: AC 1; 
  (plate mail, close-faced helmet, shield, Dex); MV 15; 
  hp 40; THAC0 16; #AT 1; Dmg 1d8 (scimitar); SZ M 
  (6’); ML champion (16); Str 17, Dex 16, Con 8, Int 18, 
  Wis 17, Cha 13; AL CG. 
  Personality: Courageous, Stern 
  In the waking world Reymond is very unnerving. 
  He has dark brown hair and eyes. He appears very frail 
  for most of his muscles have atrophied over the years, 
  but he can still write, albeit illegibly. Reymond’s 
  present condition is the result of a curse he laid upon 
  himself. It has completely crippled him and isolated 
  him from the world by preventing him from 
  communicating in any direct way. Even if he tries to 
  write something clearly it always comes out in a foreign 
  language, garbled in some fashion, or highly cryptic. 
  The only way to lift the curse is to somehow get 
  Reymond to forgive himself for his crime, but 
  accomplishing that feat may be a challenge worthy of 
  only the most stalwart heroes. 
  In the dream world Reymond is how he envisions 
  himself to be. Typically, he is decked in a piecemeal 
  suit of armor that consists of a breastplate and chain 
  extremities. The shield and scimitar he wields are very 
  ornate. Do note, however, that the DM should feel 
  especially free to change any of Reymond’s qualities. 
  He does not necessarily appear this way all the time. He 
  might manifest as a courtly gentleman who carries a 
  pistol or whatever the DM requires. His statistics and 
  equipment are only a reflection of how he wills himself 
  to be and in the Nightmare Lands that can be twisted 
  very easily. 
  Essentially, Reymond is brought from domain to 
  domain where he helps those afflicted by the Nightmare 
  Court escape their grasp. He can dreamwalk into any 
  sleeper’s mind and only the direct influence of a 
  member of the Court can stop him. Also, due to his 
  long experience with the Nightmare Court, DMs may 
  wish to give Reymond extra dream powers as the 
  adventure demands. 
  Reymond’s waking form is guarded by a bastellus. 
  He refers to it as the “Custodian.” It never harms 
  Reymond, but it ferries him all across Ravenloft to use 
  him as a convenient food supply. If anyone ever tries to 
  hurt Reymond the bastellus attacks viciously until it has 
  slain all the attackers. The creature is what is mainly 
  responsible for Reymond appearing so creepy in the 
  waking world. The bastellus never manifests itself 
  directly. It is always an utterly strange, irrational  
  experience. For instance a hero might touch Reymond 
  and taste his skin with his fingertips rather than feel his 
  face, or as is the case with Dr. Illhousen, it may just 
  cause something innocent to radiate an aura of dread. 
  For example, in his first encounter with the creature, 
  Dr. Illhousen heard herd a “dreadful squeaking,” and 
  later he describes Reymond’s body as “slithering and 
  seething.” In typical dream fashion, however, these 
  descriptions hold little significance to anyone other than 
  the observer. 
  Any other motives the creature might have are 
  unknown. The bastellus may have some unusual 
  connection to the dark powers. Perhaps they dictate 
  where it brings Reymond. Also, it is unsure whether or 
  not this is the same creature that stole young Leopold’s 
  body the day Reymond became crippled. 
  If it is the same creature, then why was Reymond 
  unaware of its presence for so long? The DM should 
  take special care to ensure that Reymond remains a 
  complex enigma. He should always appear to have 
  some sort of understanding of the situation that is vastly 
  more clear and insightful than any of the other PCs. As 
  Dr. Illhousen pointed out, the only thing that will ever 
  be certain about Reymond S. is that he will forever 
  remain the queerest form of uncertainty. 
  ! 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT DENIZENS 
  74 
  THE RED WOLF 
  The Great Hope of Nidala 
  by Andy “Socko” Snow 
  count_strahd@excite.com 
   
  BIOGRAPHY 
  lways dreaming of becoming a paladin as a 
  child, the adult Red Wolf learned that fairy 
  tales seldom come true. Yet, even in the 
  darkest tales, there always remains the 
  promise of a happy ending. 
  Irvyne Wolfe 
  7th-level Human Avenger (Knight of the Shadows), 
  Chaotic Good 
  Armor Class 
  3 
   
   
   
  Str  
  15 
  Movement 
  12  
   
   
  Dex  
  11 
  Level/ Hit Dice 
  7 
   
   
   
  Con  
  18 
  Hit Points 
  63  
   
   
  Int  
  14 
  THAC0 
  14 (13**) 
   
  Wis  
  15 
  No. of Attacks 
  2 
   
   
   
  Cha  
  16* 
  Damage/Attack 
  1d8+2 (long sword) 
  Special Attacks 
  Specialization 
  Special Defenses 
  Bonus Hit Points 
  Magic Resistance 
  Nil 
  * When dealing with natives of Nidala Irvyne’s Charisma is 
  considered 17, but when dealing with those from outside Nidala his 
  Charisma drops to 15. 
  ** Specialized with long sword 
  Appearance 
  Irvyne is a study in opposites. His blood-red plate mail 
  armor and shield are perfectly kept—not a scratch or 
  dent in them—but he does not keep himself as well 
  groomed. His brown hair has grown into a mop of wild 
  tendrils, and his face is tanned from time outdoors and 
  is covered in dark stubble. At his side is his trusty silver 
  long sword, which has served him against most evils. 
  Under his free arm he carries a great helm shaped like 
  the head of a wolf, forged from the same blood-red 
  steel that formed his armor. Fluttering behind him in the 
  breeze is the trademark yellow and black cape of his 
  order, clasped by the eclipsed moon emblem. 
  Background 
  Born and raised in Nidala, Irvyne Oakheart always 
  dreamed of becoming a paladin like his land’s ruler, 
  Lady Elena Faith-hold. He held Elena in such high 
  regard that the little boy ignored all the talk of her 
  torturing people; obviously, they were lies created by 
  those elements of society that Elena sought to destroy, 
  or so thought the young Irvyne. Irvyne thus spent his 
  entire childhood training with wooden swords and 
  exercising tirelessly in hopes that he would someday be 
  worthy of becoming one of Elena’s warriors. 
  All this changed on the morn of Irvyne’s 
  seventeenth birthday. Elena Faith-hold had just returned 
  from hunting a beast that had laid waste to a small 
  farming community. She strode through town on her 
  black unicorn, her woodsmen falling in behind her. The 
  whole town lined the streets to watch her come through, 
  including young Irvyne. When the procession reached 
  the center of town, Irvyne decided to present himself in 
  the most noble and knightly way he could manage. He 
  stepped before Lady Elena and got down on one knee. 
  With his head bowed, he spoke in a humble voice. 
  “My Lady, I am Irvyne Oakheart. I am but a poor 
  farm boy, but if you would have one such as I, I would 
  serve you until every ounce of my blood has run dry.” 
  There was a prolonged silence as all the 
  townspeople held their breath. Elena’s eyes widened, 
  for where the townspeople saw the love and adoration 
  Irvyne held for Elena, all she could see was pure evil. 
  Not being a fool, Elena invited Irvyne to return with her 
  to her castle. The boy happily followed her vanguard 
  until they came to Faith Hold. Once securely inside the 
  castle walls, Irvyne was promptly imprisoned and 
  subjected to the torture he had always thought of as 
  myth. 
  What followed was three years of every type of 
  torture imaginable. The torturers would ask questions 
  that Irvyne had no answers to. As hard as they tried, the 
  torturers could not break Irvyne’s body or his will. 
  Every day inside the dungeons made him harder to 
  break. 
  A 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT DENIZENS 
  75 
  From the moment he had been placed in the 
  dungeons, Irvyne had his sights set on escape from 
  those cursed pits of torture. But the security was so 
  tight there seemed no chance for escape. 
  But on one moonless night Irvyne did escape with 
  a small group of prisoners. Irvyne knew how hard it 
  would be to hide from Faith-hold and her troops in 
  eastern Nidala, so the band fled deep into the western 
  forests. 
  When the fugitives finally stopped, they had 
  traveled well into the forests. After a few days’ rest 
  Irvyne decided to explore even further west. He went so 
  far west that he entered the Phantasmal Forest, and 
  from there, the domain of Avonleigh, with the standing 
  stones that mark the gathering spot for the Knights of 
  the Shadows. Only one Knight of the Shadows was 
  present to greet Irvyne’s arrival. His name was Greger, 
  and his task was to guard the standing stones. Greger 
  was impressed by the young man’s harrowing story and 
  decided to train him to become a Knight of the 
  Shadows. The training was intense and forced Irvyne to 
  new heights in combat. He was trained to forge 
  weapons and armor, and Greger also taught him the art 
  of guerilla warfare.  
  When Irvyne returned to the refugees a year later, 
  they saw not the boy that had left them, but a warrior 
  clad in blood-red armor. 
  The fugitives had suffered through the past year, 
  however. They had lost half their number to hunger, 
  disease or Faith-hold’s woodsmen. Irvyne wasted no 
  time teaching them how to forge weapons and armor, 
  how to fight from the shadows, and how to use to forest 
  as cover, as a weapon, and as a means of food and 
  shelter. During the next year Irvyne and his rag-tag 
  strike force drove Faith-hold’s warriors out of the forest 
  completely. Then Irvyne and his warriors began to 
  ambush detachments of Faith-hold’s men outside the 
  forests.  
  Six months ago it came to Irvyne’s attention that a 
  young priestess of almost saintly virtue had arrived 
  from a far distant realm, and was now staying in a 
  distant village. Knowing that Faith-hold would seek to 
  make her a servant or a victim, Irvyne acted at once. He 
  and his raiders rode into that village and found the 
  woman. Next they took the young woman to their forest 
  encampment and explained the realities of Nidala to 
  her. The woman, named Nadia Wolfe, felt that Irvyne 
  and his warriors were serving good causes and joined 
  them. It wasn’t long before Nadia and Irvyne fell in 
  love. They were wed on a warm summer eve, and 
  Irvyne took his wife’s surname, as is custom in his 
  realm, though the idea seemed odd to Nadia. His men 
  began calling him the Red Wolf, and he in turn began 
  referring to them as the Pack.  
  A few weeks after the wedding, a group of wagons 
  appeared outside the Pack’s secret stronghold. Irvyne 
  was terrified, but his concern turned out to be without 
  cause. These people were the Vistani and were no 
  friends of Faith-hold’s. Many of the Pack enjoyed the 
  diversion that the Vistani brought, including Irvyne and 
  Nadia, who both had their futures told. Both received 
  the same odd message. 
  “The Warrior of Light shall be born the in the land 
  of the Unholy Knight, to a pious woman and a 
  righteous man.” 
  The day after the newlyweds received this 
  prophecy the Vistani had vanished without a trace. The 
  Pack’s mage, Maureve, studied the prophecy with 
  Nadia, and they came to the conclusion that the 
  “Warrior of Light” refers to a true paladin, and that “the 
  land of the Unholy Knight” is Nidala. This has given 
  the Pack new purpose, as they attempt to make Nidala 
  safe for the birth of the paladin. 
  Current Sketch 
  Since hearing the prophecy Irvyne has become even 
  more motivated. He believes that he has been chosen to 
  protect the young paladin until the holy knight can save 
  the people of the realm from the evil of Elena Faith-
  hold. Recently he has become less grim and single 
  minded around his men, marriage and hope lifting his 
  spirits high. When he enters combat Irvyne is even 
  more determined and fearless than ever before, even 
  despite his belief that the fate of the entire realm may 
  hinge on the outcome of his battles against evil. 
  But only very recently did Nadia realize that she 
  was with child, and only then did the full power of the 
  prophecy hit her. She now knows that her unborn child 
  will be the paladin. She has not yet told Irvyne, unsure 
  how to tell him that he will not only protect the paladin, 
  he will raise the prophesized child too. 
  A point of interest to some is the escape from the 
  dungeons of Castle Faith Hold. Irvyne and the rest of 
  the Pack refuse to discuss it; they may either tiptoe 
  around the subject around allies, or they may simply 
  silence an inquisitive enemy. Either way, they refuse to 
  reveal how they escaped. Maybe it is a secret they plan 
  to save for their final battle against Faith-hold? Perhaps 
  the escape included some horrible danger they don’t 
  want others to risk? Might the escape have incurred 
  some horrible toll? Perhaps they simply don’t want to 
  risk closing that escape route for others? Who knows? 
  Maybe it is all of the above. 
  Personality 
  Even though Irvyne has placed the world on his 
  shoulders he seems to take it all in stride. Sure, he is 
  still grimly determined to succeed, but he will not let a 
  minor defeat drive him to depression. Instead he will 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT DENIZENS 
  76 
  learn from it. When he learns of his unborn child he 
  will be filled with pride and new zeal. The fight against 
  evil will take a back seat to protecting the stronghold 
  and making sure that Nadia and their child is safe. 
  Combat 
  Irvyne is a dangerous foe in battle. He is specialized in 
  the use of his silver long sword, granting him +1 to hit, 
  +2 damage, and two attacks per round. He has also 
  spent so much time observing Elena Faith-hold’s forces 
  that he has a gut feeling on what they will do next. 
  Furthermore, against any foe who reminds him of Elena 
  Faith-hold, including her woodsmen, he receives 5 
  extra hit points. If he finds himself facing Elena Faith-
  hold herself, he receives 10 extra hit points. It is worth 
  noting that Irvyne is a master of guerilla warfare and 
  will use complex hit-and-run tactics against any force 
  of greater numbers. 
  The Pack 
  The pack consists of twenty-five men and women, aside 
  from Irvyne. Almost all of them are refugees from the 
  original escape from the Faith Hold, the only exception 
  being Nadia. 
  The average soldiers for the pack consist of fifteen 
  men and women. They wear studded leather armor and 
  wield long swords. They have all been through an 
  average amount of training and as long as they are not 
  caught alone will be able to put up an organized and 
  well-planned fight. 
  Average Pack Member, hm&f, F1 (15): AC 7 
  (studded leather); MV 12; hp 7 each; THAC0 20; #AT 
  1; Dmg 1d8 (long sword); ML: steady (12); AL CG XP 
  15. 
  The second group of warriors is better trained than 
  the first, and they can keep their heads even while 
  fighting alone. They also wear studded leather armor, 
  but they wield glaives. They total six men and women. 
  Elite Pack Members, hm&f, F2 (6): AC 7 (studded 
  leather); MV 12; hp 15 each; THAC0 19; #AT 1; Dmg 
  1d6 (glaive); SZ M; ML elite (14); AL CG; XP 35. 
  Rupert is an elf who claims to be a native of 
  Sithicus. He is the quiet, brooding type, who would 
  rather be with the horses than the rest of the Pack. Since 
  losing the better part of his soul to Lady Elena’s torture 
  chambers, Rupert wants two things out of life. First, he 
  wants to find his ancient bow, a family heirloom, which 
  he claims is a very powerful magic weapon. Second. he 
  wants to see Faith-hold die by an arrow shot from that 
  bow. 
  Rupert Bramblebow, elf male, R4 (Archer*): AC 4 
  (leather and Dex) MV 12 hp: 27; THAC0 17; #AT 1; 
  Dmg 1d6 (long bow w/flight arrows); SA +1 to hit with 
  long bow; SD resistance to sleep and charm; SZ M; ML 
  fearless (19); Str 12, Dex 19, Con 10, Int 11, Wis 15, 
  Cha 10; AL CG; XP 175. 
  Personality: Vengeful, Introspective 
  * The Archer kit appears in The Complete Book of Elves. 
  Nadia is the Pack’s lone priest, and as such finds 
  herself treating lots of wounds. She has grown to 
  despise Elena Faith-hold merely from seeing the scars 
  and burns on several members of the Pack. She is as 
  dedicated to the cause as her husband, but at times she 
  has to soothe him, as Irvyne’s hatred for Lady Elena 
  has a tendency to blind him to common sense. Nadia 
  originally hails from Barovia, where she was a 
  Gundarakite priestess of the Morninglord. Though she 
  would never admit it, were Irvyne ever to defeat Elena 
  she would like him to come to Barovia to liberate her 
  people. 
  Nadia Wolfe, human female, C5: AC 8 (Dex + 
  shield); MV 12; hp 30; THAC0 18; #AT 1; Dmg 1d4+1 
  (warhammer); SA spells; SD turn undead; SZ M; ML 
  champion (15); AL NG; XP 420; S 11 D 15 C 14 I 11 
  W 17 Ch 16. 
  Personality: Kind, focused 
  Commonly Prepared Spells: 1st—bless, cure 
  light wounds, detect magic; 2nd—hold person, slow 
  poison, wyvern watch; 3rd—cure disease; remove curse 
  Maureve is the Pack’s wizard. Despite the fact that 
  she argues almost constantly with Garik, the Red 
  Wolf’s second-in-command, most members of the Pack 
  know the couple love each other—in fact, that they only 
  argue as a front so no one will know about the 
  dalliances they engage in off in the woods several times 
  each week. Maureve was raised a noble and as such is 
  not very happy living in the woods with a bunch of 
  woodsmen. But, she knows they are doing the right 
  thing, so she curtails most of her complaints. Most of 
  them. 
  Maureve Spellweaver, human female, W5: AC 8 
  (Dex); MV 12; hp 15; THAC0 19; #AT 1; Dmg 1d4 
  (dagger); SZ M; ML champion (15); Str 8, Dex 16, Con 
  10, Int 17, Wis 9, Cha 18, AL GC; XP 420. 
  Personality: Friendly, Slightly Spoiled 
  Commonly Memorized Spells: 1st—charm 
  person, detect magic, grease, magic missile; 2nd—
  forget, invisibility; 3rd—protection from evil, 10’ 
  radius 
  Finally there is Garik; he tried to lead the refugees 
  during Irvyne’s trek west but feels that he failed. 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT DENIZENS 
  77 
  Therefore, he has no problem being second in 
  command. Garik had formerly served as a hired 
  assassin for Elena Faith-hold, but when he awakened to 
  the moral repercussions of deeds, he tried to quit. Of 
  course, Garik knew too much to be allowed to simply 
  walk away, so he was thrown in the dungeons. There, 
  among those he had formerly hunted, Garik found 
  humanity. He feels helping the pack is his best chance 
  for redemption in the eyes of the gods. 
  Garik Shadowstepper, human male, T6 
  (Redeemed*): AC: 4 (leather armor + Dex); MV 12; 
  hp 28; THAC0 18; #AT 1; Dmg 1d6 (short sword); SA 
  backstab; SD resistance to charm; SZ M; ML fanatic 
  (17); Str 15, Dex 18, Con 13, Int 13, Wis 8, Cha 14; AL 
  CG; XP: 270 
  Thief Abilities: PP 40% OL 55% F/RT 45% MS 
  55% HS 40% DN 30% CW 80% RL 35% 
  Personality: Friendly, Religious 
  * The Redeemed kit appears in Champions of the Mists. 
  Adventure Ideas 
  # Elena Faith-hold may hire the PCs to root out and 
  destroy Irvyne and the Pack. Of course when they 
  finally catch up with the “bandits,” the PCs will 
  discover that this group is not the sadistic army of 
  monsters Elena made them out to be. Naturally, a 
  discovery about the truth of Elena Faith-hold 
  would follow; the PCs might feel obligated to help 
  the stealthy resistance force. 
  # Another adventure could take place if the heroes 
  have already run into Irvyne and the Pack (possibly 
  in the previous adventure idea). Irvyne’s 
  overprotective nature concerning Nadia and their 
  unborn child has helped to lure Irvyne into a trap, 
  and he has now been imprisoned by Lady Elena’s 
  forces. Nadia sends for the heroes (friends of the 
  Pack already) to lead a small strike force into the 
  Faith Hold in an attempt to free Irvyne. This 
  mission should utilize stealth, forcing the PCs to 
  plan their actions carefully before they try to sneak 
  into a dungeon where elite guards doing 
  aeverything in their power to ensure that Irvyne 
  does not try to escape. To add a sense of urgency, 
  Irvyne may be due to be put to death in three days’ 
  time. This would allow some time for the players 
  to plan, and gather their forces, but might force 
  them to launch their rescue attempt before they feel 
  they’re truly ready, and added layer of uncertainty. 
  ! 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT DENIZENS 
  78 
  THE SOCIETY OF 
  HUNTSMEN 
  A Secret Society Seeking Justice 
  by Dustin “Grigg Deadbreaker” Rathbun 
  dustinrathbun@hotmail.com 
   
  INTRODUCTION 
  he drizzling rain stole Constable Donnely’s 
  strength as he handed his horse’s reins to 
  one of his men. Or perhaps it was the dread 
  at what he would find further down the 
  narrow alley that chilled his blood. 
  Donnely approached the second of his men as he 
  walked deeper into the lane. The man stood pale-faced, 
  staring down at the body that lay on the ground, 
  covered with a now soaked woolen blanket. “How bad 
  is it, Henson?” Donnely asked as he approached the 
  young deputy. 
  “In all my days sir, I’ve never seen something like 
  this,” Henson replied. “How many victims does this 
  make sir?” 
  “This poor man makes six,” Donnely replied as he 
  kneeled next to the corpse. “Six men, and counting, if 
  we do not find the Strangler.” Donnelly whipped the 
  blanket back and looked at the body on the ground. “By 
  Ezra . . .” was all he could mutter as he surveyed the 
  corpse. 
  The dead man lay belly up on the ground, but the 
  head was turned back, so that the face lay in the rain 
  puddle that had formed under the body. 
  “Seven actually.” A gravelly voice came from 
  further in the shadows. 
  Startled, both Donnely and Henson reached for 
  their blades. Before steel could be drawn, the figure that 
  had spoken stepped from the shadows, and the 
  constable stopped Henson from drawing steel against 
  the man that Donnely recognized as . . . 
  “Kranston.” As Donnely uttered the name, Henson 
  took a step back, still on edge from the man hunter’s 
  unexpected appearance. “What do you mean seven?” 
  Donnely continued, “Have you information that we do 
  not?” 
  The man hunter smiled grimly, “Constable, I 
  always know more than you hear, and yes, there are 
  seven victims.” Kranston approached the two lawmen. 
  “Thirteen days before you found the first body, a petty 
  thief named Mitcher was found by friends, with his 
  neck broken,” Kranston said as he nodded toward the 
  body at their feet. “Though it was not as severe as with 
  this fellow.” 
  Donnely’s hackles rose a bit at Kranston’s remark, 
  but he swallowed his pride and responded, “Well, we 
  shall discuss what information you have gathered at 
  another time, but for now perhaps we should see to the 
  identity of this man, and notify his family.” Donnely 
  gingerly began to turn the body at his feet over, and 
  grimaced as the neck flopped at an awkward angle. 
  When the body was turned and the face revealed, 
  Henson spoke, “This is Ackland Ternan. He is a 
  messenger for the house McLaine, but what is that in 
  his mouth?” 
  Donnely pinched his fingers at the bit of yellow 
  fabric that protruded from the corner of the late 
  Ternan’s mouth and pulled. A canary yellow scarf, 
  stained with blood, slipped easily from the dead man’s 
  lips. Taking it by the corners, Donnely opened it and 
  looked upon the evidence. “There is writing on this 
  scarf, letters, written in blood, but in a language that I 
  do not know.” 
  “May I?” Kranston asked, holding his hand out to 
  take the scarf. Donnely looked curiously at the man 
  hunter, and passed the fabric to Kranston’s black, 
  gloved hand. “It is written in old Kartakan,” the man 
  hunter observed, “It says, ‘You will not escape me. I 
  have all of eternity to find you.’” 
  “By Ezra, how many more will die before this 
  fiend finds the one he wants?” Donnely sighed in 
  frustration, “Seven dead, and we have no clue as to who 
  this killer is. I have only three men at my disposal, and 
  T 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT DENIZENS 
  79 
  their other duties keep them occupied. How in the 
  blazes am I to ferret out this killer?” 
  “Not to worry constable,” Kranston broke in, “I 
  know some men who would be willing to help.” 
  THE HUNTSMEN 
  A Chaotic Good Secret Society 
  he Huntsmen are a group of bounty hunters, 
  trackers, and avengers, who wander the 
  Core of Ravenloft hunting down and 
  destroying the denizens of the night. Many 
  of the Huntsmen are on some sort of personal quest of 
  vengeance, but members of this society will almost 
  always pause in their pursuits to aid in the hunt of a 
  greater evil. 
  Background 
  The Huntsmen originated in the domain of Borca, 
  where a stalker known only as Kranston was searching 
  for a killer loose in the city of Levkarest. The killer was 
  inhumanly brutal, very hungry for blood, and nearly 
  impossible to track. Never was there a living witness, 
  and the killer proved able to escape even though 
  cornered in a dead end alley. Kranston exhausted 
  himself in what seemed a futile pursuit against an 
  opponent he knew next to nothing about. It was then 
  when, quite by chance, he encountered an avenger by 
  the name of Turk Mader. 
  Mader had been pursuing a vampire which had fled 
  from him in Nova Vaasa. The vampire had slain 
  Mader’s one true friend, and now made light of the 
  pursuit that had become Mader’s life. Mader had 
  tracked the creature to Levkarest, but now had lost the 
  trail in the twisting streets of the city. 
  With Kranston’s knowledge of the city and 
  Mader’s knowledge of vampires, the duo played off of 
  each other quite well. Eventually the pair tracked down 
  the killer, who proved to be a fledgling vampire under 
  the control of the bloodsucker who had been eluding 
  Mader. After dispatching the bloodthirsty fledgling, the 
  pair also flushed its master from hiding and forced it 
  into the light of the rising sun. Kranston and Mader 
  worked together for a time, and many of their peers 
  began to seek them out in order to find aid, or perhaps 
  to learn their trade a bit better. Eventually, the meetings 
  of these man-hunters culminated in the formation of the 
  Huntsman society. (Officially, the Huntsmen Society 
  was founded in 733 BC.) 
  Membership 
  The Huntsmen accept only good or neutral avengers 
  (Domains of Dread), bounty hunters (The Complete 
  Thief’s Handbook), stalkers (Dragon Magazine Annual 
  #3), and others like themselves. Only those who have 
  proven themselves skilled in a hunt with a member of 
  the society are invited to join. Temporary appointments 
  may be given to non-man hunters on occasion, but this 
  is a highly unusual occurrence. There are very few true 
  members of the Huntsmen, no more than twenty-five. 
  However, given their line of work the number is 
  constantly in flux, as careless Huntsmen are slain, and 
  young hopefuls join the ranks. 
  Recognition 
  The Huntsmen do not make great efforts to conceal 
  their existence, since they require some recognition to 
  be effective in their jobs. The general populace within 
  the Dread Domains has little or no contact with man-
  hunters, so they are usually unaware of the group’s 
  existence. However, those involved in enforcing the 
  law have a bit more knowledge of the Huntsmen. A law 
  keeping official has a chance (5% plus 2% per level he 
  has gained) of recognizing a member of the Huntsmen 
  by reputation. 
  Among themselves, Huntsmen tend to keep abreast 
  of who joins the society. A Huntsman has a 10% 
  chance, plus 5% per level he has gained, to recognize a 
  fellow member of the society. Many Huntsmen have 
  begun to wear a small badge in the shape of a hound, 
  and this may become the true symbol of the society, but 
  for now, the only true method of determining a 
  Huntsman is to watch him at work. 
  Should a huntsman encounter someone wearing 
  one of the Huntsmen badges, he is able to tell at a 
  glance if the person wearing the badge is a member of 
  the Society. Anyone caught wearing one of these 
  badges that is not a member of the society must make a 
  charisma check with a –3 penalty when in the company 
  of a true Huntsman in order to maintain this charade. 
  True Huntsmen are quite able to sniff out a charlatan 
  within their midst, and are not very forgiving towards 
  those who seek to gain a reputation by displaying 
  something that they have not earned the right to wear. 
  Headquarters 
  The society of Huntsmen has no true headquarters, nor 
  does it require meetings. There are, however, a number 
  of taverns within the core that have become recognized 
  meeting places for members. The best known of these is 
  known as Dengar’s Retreat, located in Levkarest, the 
  birthplace of the Huntsmen. 
  T 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT DENIZENS 
  80 
  Leadership 
  There is no leader of the Huntsmen society, but one of 
  the founding members of the group still lives. The 
  stalker, Kranston, now lives in Sturben, Borca. He has 
  retired from hunting, but he does occasionally leave his 
  small home in search of a new challenge. 
  Ronald Kranston 
  12th-level Thief (Stalker), Chaotic Good 
  Armor Class 
  4 
   
   
   
  Str  
  14 
  Movement 
  12  
   
   
  Dex  
  16 
  Level/Hit Dice 
  10+4 
   
   
  Con  
  13 
  Hit Points 
  42  
   
   
  Int  
  15 
  Morale 
  16  
   
   
  Wis  
  14 
  THAC0 
  15  
   
   
  Cha  
  12 
  No. of Attacks 
  1 
   
   
   
  XP  
  5,000 
  Damage/Attack 
  B y weapon (Short sword +2) 
  Special Attacks 
  Backstab x4 
  Special Defenses 
  Ring of mirror image 
  Magic Resistance 
  Nil 
  Thief Abilities 
  PP 75% OL 77% F/RT 75% MS 
  94% HS 77% CW 99% RL 80% 
  Ronald Kranston is a thin man who stands about 
  5’4’”. He is in his early sixties, but he moves as though 
  he were a man half his age. His hair is shoulder length, 
  but thin and white with age. The hairline has receded, 
  laying bare the front third of his scalp. Kranston’s eyes 
  are green and clear, and little escapes his notice. 
  Though Kranston has held up remarkably well against 
  the ravages of time, his hearing has lessened in recent 
  years. Kranston’s first name is known only by a select 
  group of friends. Professionally, however, Kranston is 
  the only name that he answers to. 
  Kranston dresses in dark clothing often with a blue 
  scarf and a black, wide brimmed hat. When on a hunt, 
  he dresses in black, and wears studded leather armor. 
  Kranston always carries a dagger on his person, but will 
  equip himself with whatever weapons he feels will be 
  useful during a hunt. 
  Background 
  Ronald Kranston was born and raised in Levkarest. His 
  parents were poor and he spent much of his time 
  roaming the streets and back alleys. When he came into 
  his teens, Ronald became a thief. While he made 
  enough to help support his family, he never quite felt 
  comfortable in the role. During his seventeenth year 
  Ronald, quite by accident, aided the constabulary in 
  apprehending an escaped murderer by running into the 
  man as he fled a group of lawmen. 
  The killer was a well-known member of one of the 
  local guilds, and the guild retaliated by beating Ronald 
  into a bloody pulp. Angered and humiliated, he now 
  turned his talents to helping the local police retrieve 
  escaped criminals. He infiltrated the local crime scene 
  in order to flush out its major leaders and bring them to 
  justice. It was during this time, he became known and 
  feared by the underworld as Kranston. 
  Kranston has hunted men throughout the southern 
  core, and has even traveled onto no less than three of 
  the infamous islands of terror in pursuit of his prey. 
  Current Sketch 
  Kranston has retired from the hunt, and now spends 
  most of his time in his home, located in Sturben. He 
  lives a simple, if lonely, life, and rarely receives 
  visitors. On occasion he will don his old hunting gear 
  and go into the city in order to aid in an investigation, 
  but he leaves most of the work to younger, more able-
  bodied men. However, Kranston is not above teaching 
  young upstarts that he is not as old as he might appear. 
  Combat 
  Kranston wears studded leather armor +1 in combat. 
  Though not as quick as he once was, his Dexterity is 
  still impressive, lending an additional –2 bonus to his 
  Armor Class. 
  As stated above, Kranston carries a dagger with 
  him at all times, but his primary weapon when he 
  expects combat is his short sword +2, which he has 
  named Blacktalon. Kranston also possesses a ring 
  which can invoke the effects of the 2nd-level wizard 
  spell magic mirror up to three times per day when the 
  command word is spoken. 
  Kranston remains skilled as a thief, but his 
  declining hearing has all but removed his ability to 
  Hear Noise. Kranston can cause x4 damage with a 
  successful backstab. 
  Kranston has the ability to read spell scrolls with a 
  75% chance to read them correctly. Kranston possesses 
  both a scroll of protection vs. poison and a wizard scroll 
  containing the spells blink, identify, and levitation. 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT DENIZENS 
  81 
  Other Huntsmen 
  Corden Mader 
  5th Level Avenger, Chaotic Good 
  Armor Class 
  5 
   
   
   
  Str  
  15 
  Movement 
  12  
   
   
  Dex  
  14 
  Level/Hit Dice 
  5 
   
   
   
  Con  
  16 
  Hit Points 
  42  
   
   
  Int  
  12 
  THAC0 
  16 (15)  
   
  Wis  
  9 
  No. of Attacks 
  3/2  
   
   
  Cha  
  11 
  Damage/Attack 
  2d4+2 
  Special Attacks 
  Fangscorch 
  Special Defenses 
  None 
  Magic Resistance 
  Nil 
  Corden Mader is the son of Turk Mader, co-
  founder of the Huntsmen. Corden is 27 years of age, 
  and he looks much like his father did when he was 
  Corden’s age. Corden stands at 6’3”, and has the lean 
  build of an experienced warrior. His hair is brown and 
  shoulder length, though he often ties it back with a 
  leather cord in order to keep it out of the way. Corden’s 
  brown eyes are dark and brooding, often giving him the 
  look of a man who has never known joy in his life. 
  Corden wears a suit of chain mail armor when 
  pursuing his prey. He wears a heavy black cloak 
  secured with a clasp fashioned from his Huntsman’s 
  badge. At his throat, he wears a gorget emblazoned 
  with the holy symbol of the Church of Ezra. Always at 
  his side is his father’s legacy to him, the sword 
  Fangscorch. 
  Background 
  Corden Mader was raised with the desire to destroy the 
  foul undead. Since he was eleven, his father trained him 
  to hunt them down and destroy them. Much of the time, 
  Corden resented his father for attempting to mold him 
  into his own image, but that changed when the minions 
  of a vampire Turk destroyed came looking for revenge. 
  The vampire’s minions avenged their fallen lord in 
  the dead of night. Turk Mader and his wife were slain, 
  and Corden was taken back to the killers’ refuge. There, 
  they had planned to use Corden as a sacrifice in an 
  attempt to resurrect their master. The timely 
  intervention of a group of adventurers spared the boy 
  his life, but Corden did not sit idly by. The leader of the 
  vampire’s minions found that the boy was indeed as 
  much of a threat as his father had been when Corden 
  ran him through with his own ceremonial dagger. 
  Current Sketch 
  Corden Mader has since become an influential member 
  of the Huntsmen. He is one of the few that is considered 
  a friend by Kranston, and it was Corden who introduced 
  the badge of the Huntsmen. Though some of the older 
  members of the society view this badge as nothing 
  more than a piece of jewelry, younger members 
  consider the badge to be a mark of honor, and the badge 
  is quickly becoming the recognized symbol of the 
  Society of Huntsmen. 
  Corden has no permanent lodgings, and he is 
  currently traveling the core with his friend and traveling 
  companion, Waldor Drune, in pursuit of a monstrous 
  vampire known as Bishop Night. The vampire has thus 
  far eluded him in Mordent, Dementlieu, and Lamordia. 
  Mader is sure that Bishop Night will next appear in 
  Necropolis, and has dispatched agents to Martira Bay in 
  hopes that he will finally be able trap this monster and 
  stop the vampire’s reign of terror. 
  Combat 
  In combat, Corden uses his father’s sword Fangscorch. 
  This magical bastard sword has been enchanted to 
  strike vampires. The sword has no magical plusses, but 
  is capable of wounding any form of vampire. Should 
  Corden strike with a roll of a natural 20 when attacking 
  a vampire, Fangscorch will stake the vampire. When 
  Fangscorch stakes a vampire in this manner, the 
  vampire is paralyzed and unable to move. The 
  following round, if Corden uses the command word of 
  “Pyre,” the staked vampire is enveloped in flames. 
  These flames will cause 2d8 damage each round to the 
  vampire, but will not cause anything else they may 
  touch to combust. 
  Fangscorch is also capable of detecting a vampiric 
  charm upon any unfortunates who have fallen victim to 
  a vampire’s gaze. This ability manifests itself as a soft 
  humming, and the sword’s wielder must concentrate for 
  one round to activate this power. 
  Other than the above abilities, Fangscorch 
  performs exactly as a bastard sword of good quality. 
  Corden is specialized in the use of Fangscorch, and can 
  attack with it three times within two rounds of combat. 
  As an avenger, Corden gains a 5 hit point bonus 
  when confronting agents of his quarry and those who 
  remind him of his nemesis in battle. When confronting 
  his main quarry in battle, Corden gains a 10 hit point 
  bonus. These hit points are used like those in the aid 
  spell, and are the first hit points lost in combat. 
  When pursuing his quarry, Corden can make a 
  Wisdom check in order to determine the approximate 
  direction in which to travel in pursuit of his chosen 
  enemy. 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT DENIZENS 
  82 
  Waldor Drune 
  3rd-level Gnomish Thief (Pistoleer), Chaotic Good 
  Armor Class 
  5 
   
   
   
  Str  
  9 
  Movement 
  12  
   
   
  Dex  
  17 
  Level/Hit Dice 
  3 
   
   
   
  Con  
  12 
  Hit Points 
  15  
   
   
  Int  
  14 
  THAC0 
  19 (17 w/Dex) 
  Wis  
  11 
  No. of Attacks 
  1/2 or 1  
   
  Cha  
  15 
  Damage/Attack 
  by weapon 
  Special Attacks 
  +1 to hit goblins or kobolds 
  Special Defenses 
  Gnomish constitution, small size 
  Magic Resistance 
  Nil 
  Thief Abilities 
  PP 40% OL 45% F/RT 40% MS 
  35% HS 30% DN 25% CW 70% 
  RL 10% 
  Waldor Drune is the constant traveling companion 
  to Corden Mader. While not truly a man-hunter, Waldor 
  has earned his place in the Huntsmen by being an 
  invaluable aid to Corden in his hunts. 
  Waldor is a member of the gnomish race in his 
  fifties. Standing at 3’6”, he has a wiry build for a 
  gnome and is quite agile. He possesses a short and 
  scruffy beard and wears his light brown hair in a small 
  braid. Waldor has dark brown eyes that sparkle with 
  good humor, and he acts as quite the counter to the grim 
  demeanor of his traveling companion. 
  Waldor wears leather armor and a floppy, green 
  wool hat. At his waist he has two pistols holstered on 
  his belt. One of them is a wheellock, and the other a 
  snaplock. He keeps his smoke powder and bullets 
  handily available on the straps that hold his small 
  backpack, and also carries an arquebus slung over his 
  shoulder. Waldor prominently displays his Huntsman 
  badge on a chain around his neck. 
  Background 
  Waldor Drune was born in the gnomish community of 
  Mayvin in Necropolis. While he was still young, his 
  family moved to the city of Martira Bay to open a small 
  pawnshop. One day, a young human dressed in garish 
  clothing brought in a fine pistol. The man stated that he 
  simply needed to clear a debt, and would be back to 
  claim the gun in a week’s time. Waldor was fascinated 
  by the pistol, and often took it out to get a closer look at 
  it, taking note of all the small parts, and how they all 
  worked together. Waldor began to read all the 
  information he could find on smoke powder and the 
  weapons that made use of it, and began saving his 
  money to buy one of his very own. After a year had 
  passed, and the young human never returned to claim 
  his weapon, Waldor’s father conceded to let his son 
  purchase the weapon. 
  Waldor became quite accomplished with the pistol, 
  and began entering some small marksmanship contests. 
  Winning some of these contests earned Waldor another 
  pistol, and the more archaic arquebus, named “Leila,” 
  which he is quite proud of. 
  Wills met Corden Mader in a tavern while on the 
  way to a marksman competition in Dementlieu. Agents 
  of the evil vampire Bishop Night had ambushed Mader 
  in an alley outside of the window to Waldor’s room. 
  The noise of Waldor’s pistol startled the attackers, 
  while the strategic placement of the next shot, into the 
  knee cap of their apparent leader, sent them running (or 
  staggering as the case may be). 
  Current Sketch 
  Waldor has traveled with Corden since that night, and 
  considers the grim avenger to be like a brother. Joining 
  with the avenger was, at first, a way for Waldor to 
  capitalize on his skill as a pistoleer, but during the 
  travels with Cody he has come to realize just how 
  important the work of the Huntsmen can be. When 
  Waldor received his Huntsmen’s badge, it was truly an 
  honor to him, and he has vowed to give his life to the 
  society if need be. 
  Waldor has a very outgoing personality, and if PCs 
  encounter the duo of Corden and Waldor, they will find 
  themselves talking almost exclusively to the gnome. 
  Should Waldor meet with another pistoleer, he will try 
  to engage that person in a conversation. He has been 
  known to stay up till the wee hours of the night talking 
  firearms with other sharpshooters. 
  Combat 
  In combat Waldor relies on his smoke powder weapons. 
  He carries them loaded at all times, so he is always 
  ready with at least three shots. The pistols inflict 1d8 
  damage per shot, and the arquebus inflicts 1d10 damage 
  per shot. Should maximum damage be rolled for any 
  shot, then the die is rolled again with the new result 
  being added to the first. (Example: Waldor fires a pistol 
  shot and hits, rolling 8 for the damage roll. He then 
  rolls the d8 again and gets a 5. The total damage is 13. 
  8+5=13.) Should Waldor roll a 1 on his attack roll, the 
  weapon misfires, inflicting damage equal to a regular 
  shot to Waldor. Weapons that have misfired cannot be 
  used again until at least 10 rounds have been spent 
  cleaning the barrel. 
  If Waldor is exposed to a fire attack, such as a 
  fireball or breath weapon, he must roll an item saving 
  throw for whatever container he keeps his smoke 
  powder in. If the save fails, then he will take 1d2 points 
  of damage per smoke powder charge he is carrying. 
  Waldor can also backstab opponents for double 
  damage, but dislikes shooting people in the back. 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT DENIZENS 
  83 
  As a gnome, Waldor gets a +3 to save vs. magic 
  due to his unique gnomish constitution. Waldor also 
  gets a +1 to hit modifier when attacking goblins or 
  kobolds. Opponents of large size or greater have a –4 
  penalty to attack rolls when striking at Waldor. Waldor 
  also possesses infravision up to 60’. 
  ! 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT DENIZENS 
  84 
  THE ORDER OF TWILIGHT 
  An order of Scholars Who Dare to Dream 
  by James “The Madman” Dalton 
  reagulf@hotmail.com 
   
  Who knows what will disturb this sleep 
  of mine, whatever sleep it may be. 
  — Robert Frost 
  “After Apple Picking” 
  HISTORY OF THE 
  NIGHTMARE MAN 
  he campfire spat high into the air, 
  surrounded by five still figures. Above 
  them, the sky was a chaotic swirl of dark 
  crimson and neutral gray. As for the 
  surrounding terrain, it was obscured beneath layers of 
  glowing mist. 
  On one side of the fire sat four figures in traveling 
  attire. They appeared to have come from all walks of 
  life, so varied were their appearances. Yet somehow, 
  despite their differences, they appeared similar—a 
  similarity that extended beyond the identical black 
  medallions each wore around their neck. Across from 
  them, clothed only in a loincloth, was the Abber 
  shaman, Lives-in-Memories. His gnarled skin was nut 
  brown and covered in a myriad of tattoos. The 
  centerpiece of this painted menagerie was a large black 
  raven in mid-flight, tattooed on the shaman’s chest with 
  a single wing swooping up to touch his lower cheek. 
  Above his nose were two milk-white eyes, exposing 
  Lives-in-Memories’ blindness, and a single wisp of 
  white hair atop an otherwise bald pate. Despite his 
  blindness he was looking directly at the group, his 
  hands rhythmically shaking an old necklace of blue 
  beads. 
  For a while the gathered figures were silent, before 
  Lives-in-Memories opened his mouth, revealing a 
  toothless abyss, “The mists of time have parted before 
  my gaze. I have found the memory that you seek. Listen 
  now, and learn of what Lives-in-Memories has seen. 
  “The being you know of as the Nightmare Man 
  was once known by another name. In another world and 
  another time, there was a gifted artist by the name of 
  Armand Tyarré. From a very young age he painted 
  masterpiece upon masterpiece. A gallery in the city he 
  occupied, a city that now exists only as the ruined City 
  of Nod, had entire rooms dedicated to his artwork. First 
  claimed to be a prodigy and then a god of the canvas, 
  Armand was very modest about his work. In fact, his 
  work was all he cared about. Shuttered within a work of 
  easels, palettes and paintbrushes, Armand had little to 
  care about the people around him. In his mind nothing 
  compared to the beauty he created with his brush. 
  “The subjects of his creativity varied greatly, for 
  the secret to his art was his superhuman imagination. It 
  seemed that Armand had a mental link with the fabled 
  Plane of Dreams, a place where anything is possible. 
  Even during the day Armand dreamt, painting as 
  fantastic visions opened in his mind. But none of these 
  dreams put any sense into him, despite the praise that 
  his loved ones lumped upon him; Armand continued to 
  ignore them. Occasionally, such as when a child was 
  born to his sister or when his brother was married, 
  Armand would agree to paint a memory that could be 
  cherished forever. Alas, once the paintbrush had left the 
  canvas, these people evaporated from his mind. 
  “Yes, Armand was what one would call eccentric, 
  but no one cared, for Armand was completely harmless. 
  Unfortunately for his loved ones, Armand’s obsession 
  with his painting would lead to their deaths. 
  “One summer night the family were gathered in the 
  ball room of their large mansion, celebrating the birth 
  of Armand’s second nephew. Distant from the 
  celebrants, Armand sat in his bedroom, painting away 
  at another masterpiece. In yet another part of the house, 
  several thieves—drawn by the wealth that Armand’s 
  paintings were worth—were creeping around. A maid 
  startled the thieves, causing them to drop their lanterns, 
  which shattered on the ground. Hungry flames 
  immediately spread out from the point of impact, 
  devouring everything in this path. Armand, whose room 
  T 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT DENIZENS 
  85 
  sat between the West Wing and the ballroom in the East 
  Wing, was disturbed from his painting by the sight of 
  the west wing blazing with fire. Inspiration took hold of 
  him as Armand gathered up a blank canvas, some paints 
  and his easel. Leaving the house, Armand set himself 
  up on the front lawn and took in the glory of the 
  burning mansion. Meanwhile the guests and family 
  members partied on, oblivious to the fire that was 
  burning the house down around them. It was only when 
  the roof of the ballroom collapsed, that they realized 
  what was going on. Of course at that point it was too 
  late. 
  “When the authorities arrived at the burning 
  skeleton of Tyarré Manor, they found Armand admiring 
  his latest masterpiece—Mansion of Embers. Believing 
  that the eccentric artist had purposefully caused the fire, 
  the authorities arrested Armand and locked him away in 
  prison. Denied his painting, Armand slowly began to 
  grow mad. Little did he, or any other resident of the 
  doomed city, know, but dark mists had gathered around 
  the city—mists similar to those that give this land its 
  name. 
  “Day by torturous day swam by Armand, as he 
  continued to plummet into insanity. His only comfort 
  was the dreams, but they too seemed to be going mad. 
  Each day that passed without him painting, caused the 
  dreams to continually twist into nightmares. One 
  morning Armand awoke from his sleep to find a terrible 
  entity in his cell—an entity that he had just dreamt 
  about. The creature was from the deepest pits of hell 
  and yet Armand was not afraid of it. Then it was that he 
  noticed why. He could see into the beast’s mind—his 
  mind. Armand had given his dream life, something that 
  he continued to do in the weeks that followed. Soon 
  Armand had mastered the ability to manifest all sorts of 
  dreams in his cell. But his shattered mind was still sad, 
  for the dreams he manifested were either terrible 
  nightmares or twisted versions of his sleeping visions. 
  A new idea sprung to life in Armand’s mind; perhaps 
  he could use the dreams to gather painting equipment. 
  “After a particularly horrifying nightmare, Armand 
  manifested a winged claw. He commanded it to fly out 
  of the prison and steal for him what he needed to begin 
  painting again. The dream manifest obeyed and soon 
  returned with an easel, canvas, paints and brushes. Like 
  a starving man to a banquet, Armand immediately 
  began to paint. Yet, like his twisted dreams, Armand 
  could only paint dark scenes. Eventually the warden 
  found him out, a particularly malicious man who had 
  delighted in tormenting poor Armand. 
  “The warden had all of Armand’s paintings taken 
  away and burnt before the insane artist’s eyes. During 
  the entire scenario Armand just screamed like a pitiful 
  child. Finally, the warden had Armand locked away in 
  solitary confinement. 
  “His tortured screams rang out for days from the 
  lone, windowless tower that was his home. Finally, 
  when his voice was but a hoarse whisper, Armand 
  turned to plotting the wardens—and the entire prison’s 
  demise. Summoning up from the depths of his insane 
  mind the worst horrors he could imagine, Armand 
  ordered them to slaughter all of the prison guards and 
  the warden. Gleefully the malevolent manifestations 
  swarmed out of the tower and through the prison. Any 
  guard they found, they slaughtered. Armand, who 
  cackled with each scream, felt every murder as they 
  occurred. The final victim was the warden himself, his 
  body and soul was devoured by the gibbering fiends of 
  Armand’s mind. 
  “This was when everything turned for the worst. 
  The countless deaths they had wrought seemed to 
  corrupt the manifestations further. They broke out of 
  Armand’s control and started to run amok through the 
  prison and out into the city proper. A riot broke out in 
  the prison, during which Armand escaped. Everywhere 
  he ran he either saw massacred bodies or terrible 
  battles. The nightmares pursued screaming figures 
  throughout the streets, yet none of them were interested 
  in Armand. Fleeing through the streets, Armand headed 
  for sanctuary—the city cathedral. In the past Armand 
  had used to come to the great edifice at least once a 
  week to admire the glorious artworks within. It was 
  here that he found artwork that equaled his own. Now, 
  Armand hoped, he would find salvation. 
  “But the nightmares had come for the cathedral as 
  well, and Armand found himself in a large hall empty 
  except for the mangled bodies of priests. At the head of 
  the cathedral was a gigantic altar and here it was that 
  the mad artist prostrated himself, begging to be saved. 
  He called up to the gods and asked that he and his art 
  would be spared from the ravages of the nightmares. 
  Even as he spoke the windows of the cathedral shook 
  with the moaning of the nightmares outside. Shattered 
  glass sprayed into the cathedral, followed by hordes of 
  ethereal horrors. Shaking with terror, Armand called 
  out to them, told them to go out and find other survivors 
  to kill—just as long as they left him and his art in 
  safety. The nightmares ignored his pleas; instead they 
  closed in for the kill. 
  “His screams carried on until his body was 
  devoured, at which point the mad spirit of Armand 
  reached for the Plane of Dreams—a place he loved so 
  dearly. But it seemed that a thin web of shadow stood 
  between Armand and true salvation. Strands of the dark 
  web caught at the artist’s spirit, drawing him down and 
  back into the clutches of the terrifying nightmares. 
  Darkness swarmed into Armand’s visions and he knew 
  no more. 
  “Maybe hours or even days had passed when 
  Armand awoke. He stood in the Cathedral in a ruined 
  city full of mist. His body was emaciated and light gray, 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT DENIZENS 
  86 
  his clothes were nowhere to be seen. It was then that 
  Armand saw the spiders, thousands of the black horrors 
  crawling over the walls of the Cathedral. He could 
  barely scream before the arachnids attacked him, 
  swarming over his body and spewing strands of black 
  webbing across him. 
  “Thus the artist Armand Tyarré died and the 
  creature known as the Nightmare Man was born. This 
  happened sixty-nine years ago in the time of this Land. 
  Since that time others have joined this tortured soul, 
  joined him in his new prison. Thus my memory comes 
  to an end.” 
  None of the other figures had moved during the 
  shaman’s oration, except to scribble notes down onto 
  paper. One of the figures, a woman with a thick Nova 
  Vaasan accent finally broke the silence. 
  “Who were these others? How did they come into 
  this Land to join the Nightmare Man?” 
  Her questions were only met with a smile from the 
  wizened shaman. Without another word the man 
  seemed to fade away into the mist, only the rhythm 
  made by his beads continued on. The four figures sat 
  stunned for a moment before dousing the fire and 
  standing up. Remembering their orders they did not 
  bother searching for Lives-in-Memories, instead they 
  simply dusted themselves off and gathered their 
  belongings from the dusty ground. 
  “A very interesting tale indeed,” the woman noted, 
  “but now the time has come for us to depart. This 
  history must have its place in the Order archives.” 
  With that the group left the site of the fire and 
  began their arduous trek back to the Rocky Shoals and 
  the boat that awaited them. Meanwhile, obscured by the 
  mists behind them, swirled a creature of chaotic energy. 
  Only moments had passed since it dropped the illusion 
  of the shaman, but already the Ennui was bored. 
  Without a sound the dream spawn evaporated. As the 
  master ordered, the seeds had been sown. 
  THE ORDER OF TWILIGHT 
  e humans are very curious, whenever an 
  unknown factor appears in our life we strive 
  to uncover its secrets and make it mundane. 
  This art, known as science, has been able to 
  solve just about every mystery that has perplexed us in 
  the past. But one mystery still stands, impervious to the 
  assaults of the human mind—the subconscious. Within 
  this realm of past mist and future shadows lie our 
  creativity, our memories, and our dreams. Most 
  important of all are our dreams, for unlike the other two 
  they have two faces—one light and one dark. 
  Nightmares, the darkest manifestations of our soul, hold 
  great power. They invoke fear within us and could 
  shatter our very sanity. Imagine what would happen if 
  this power could be harnessed. 
  Background 
  For decades now the Nightmare Lands have existed in 
  Ravenloft, led by the insidious group known as the 
  Nightmare Court. Leading this motley band of evil is 
  the mysterious figure known as the Nightmare Man. 
  Once a skilled artist, the Nightmare Man now finds 
  himself without the smallest drop of creativity. Painting 
  had been his life, but now it was all gone, all but the 
  painful feeling of loss. In vain the Nightmare Man 
  attempted to gain inspiration from the dreams and 
  nightmares of others. Alas, his curse was too strong—
  not even the most vivid dream could inspire him. Thus 
  the Nightmare Man came up with a new plan of 
  attack—to escape from Ravenloft. But once again he 
  was thwarted, he had no imagination with which to 
  make up a plan. 
  All of this changed when he stumbled upon the 
  frustrating dreams of a mage known as Guiver 
  Mythspeaker. Guiver had found himself trapped in 
  Ravenloft after a failed attempt to enter the Plane of 
  Dreams. Finding escape impossible, the mage had 
  begun to experience nightmares. Pleased at his 
  discovery, the Nightmare Man decided that Guiver 
  would be the one to help him escape from his terrible 
  curse. Over the next few years, the Nightmare Man 
  appeared in Guiver’s dreams, appealing to the wizard to 
  help him. At first Guiver believed that he was simply 
  dreaming, but after the Nightmare Man proved to the 
  mage that whatever happened in his dreams could affect 
  him in the real world, the mage changed his mind. 
  Finally, in 725 BC Guiver made a pilgrimage to the 
  Nightmare Lands, where he saw the true power of the 
  Nightmare Court. Believing that somehow he could use 
  this as a way to enter into the Plane of Dreams, Guiver 
  agreed to help the Nightmare Man escape as long as he 
  gave Guiver the power to enter dreams and nightmares. 
  Reluctantly the Nightmare Man agreed and gave Guiver 
  a magical item known as a dream key. This magical 
  device allowed its wielder to pierce the veil between the 
  realities and enter into dreams and dreamscapes. 
  A year after he agreed to assist the Nightmare Man, 
  Guiver decided that he would need more people to help 
  him. So it was that the Order of Twilight came to be. 
  Guiver searched the land for other wizards and 
  scholars, but over time he also began to recruit people 
  from more mundane occupations. Eventually the Order 
  became a Land-wide network of information. While 
  investigating the legend about the existence of a portal 
  that led to another world, some Order members 
  discovered a tome written in Balok talking about the 
  Plane of Dreams. Guiver immediately acquired this 
  tome, and studied it in depth for some five months.  
  W 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT DENIZENS 
  87 
  Finally, in the year 748 BC, Guiver had discovered 
  how to open a gateway to the Plane of Dreams that 
  could evade the death-tight grip of Ravenloft. Planning 
  to betray the Nightmare Man and leave Ravenloft 
  without living up to his part of the bargain, Guiver 
  assembled his most trusted assistants and prepared to 
  use the Key to escape. Unfortunately one of the 
  assistants was fiercely loyal to the Nightmare Man and 
  betrayed Guiver to him. Infuriated, the Nightmare Man 
  dragged Guiver into a nightmare. Here he switched the 
  treacherous mage’s dream key with a cursed one. When 
  Guiver completed his ritual several days later, the 
  energy of the cursed Key was released in a cataclysmic 
  explosion that killed all participants—including the 
  Nightmare Man’s informant. 
  Goals 
  Originally the Order was established to help the 
  Nightmare Man escape from Ravenloft. In recent times 
  the Order has expanded its horizons and now strives to 
  learn all it can about dreams and nightmares. Although 
  Guiver died five years ago, the Order carries on, 
  oblivious to their leader’s demise. Also, despite 
  Guiver’s betrayal, the Order still searches for a way to 
  help the Nightmare Man. In return the Order expects to 
  gain total freedom in the realm of dreams as well as 
  protection from the members of the Nightmare Court. 
  Members 
  Since every intelligent being can dream, membership to 
  the Order of Twilight is open to anyone. In the 
  beginning of the Order, Guiver used to recruit only 
  wizards and scholars who had great knowledge of 
  dreams. But later on he decided that the Order could 
  accomplish other, more menial goals, with the help of 
  members from less specialized fields. 
  In present times, the Order is separated into 
  Circles, which are further split into Cells. Circles are 
  ranks in the Order of Twilight and signify how far the 
  member is from Guiver and the truth about the Order’s 
  origins. The First Circle contains Guiver and his 
  assistants and is unique in the fact that it is made up of 
  only one Cell. The other Circles are made up of any 
  number of Cells, depending on how active members of 
  the higher Circles are in recruiting. 
  Occasionally a member of a Cell will leave his 
  headquarters and travel the land, looking for 
  prospective members. When he finds a number of 
  candidates he helps them to form a Cell in their local 
  area and initiates them into the Circle beneath his own. 
  For the rest of the Cell’s existence they will work 
  together to study dreams and dream-related phenomena, 
  passing along their findings to their found and his Cell, 
  which will in turn pass it along to their found until all 
  information gathered by the Order reaches Guiver’s 
  Cell. Due to the recent destruction of Guiver’s cell, all 
  of the Second Circle has been plunged into confusion as 
  to what to do with their information. Already power 
  struggles are taking place and many Cell members are 
  attempting to form a new cell to lead the Order in 
  Guiver’s place. This of course has been hampered by 
  the fact that most cells do not know of the existence of 
  other cells in their Circle. 
  Cells can have any number of members, although 
  most only have between four and seven members. 
  Although they have no elected leaders, each cell has 
  one or two charismatic members that take on the 
  unspoken title of cell leader. 
  Recognition 
  The Order of Twilight is a well-known group, with a 
  great deal of the Core knowing at least a little about 
  them. However the Order does have its secrets (and an 
  ulterior motive known only to members of the First and 
  Second Circle). For this reason they still require several 
  levels of recognition. 
  First of all, each member has a special medallion 
  that they are given when they are initiated. These 
  medallions are flat black disks made from onyx. Carved 
  into them is an eye with a crescent moon for a pupil. 
  This is known as the Symbol of Twilight. Members of 
  the Order are required to have the disks on show at all 
  times so that they may be identified by other members 
  and the public at large. 
  Once Order members have identified one another 
  they must then make sure that they are talking to bone 
  fide members. This is done via the Rites of Unmasking. 
  What this rather poetic-sounding ritual entails is two 
  phrases known to all members of the Order. The 
  member who initiates contact with the other member 
  begins by saying “The sun shines upon us, as we shine 
  upon mankind,” to which the other member replies, 
  “The moon shines upon us also, so that we may have a 
  beacon in this dark land.” When members are satisfied 
  that they are talking to fellow Order initiates they can 
  talk about anything they wish. 
  Only members of the First and Second Circles 
  employ the final method of recognition. All members of 
  these Circles where black robes that mask their faces, 
  so as to hide their evil practices from spying eyes. To 
  ascertain whether someone truly is a member, each Cell 
  has a password that changes weekly. This password 
  must be whispered into the ear of the Cell’s founder as 
  each member enters the headquarters. Anyone found to 
  be a spy is killed immediately. 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT DENIZENS 
  88 
  Headquarters 
  Just like dreams, the headquarters of each Order cell 
  come in all different shapes and sizes. Most of the 
  Order is concentrated in the Core, with cells found in 
  Lamordia, Mordent, Richemulot, Barovia, Darkon, 
  Falkovnia and Nova Vaasa. Rumors have it that other 
  cells exist in the Islands of Terror, most likely in 
  domains such as G’Henna, Souragne and Vorostokov. 
  Guiver and his assistants made their home in Cross 
  Keep, a ruined wizard’s tower deep within a Mordent 
  forest. None of the other members of the Order knew of 
  its location, and with the death of its inhabitants 
  perhaps none ever will. 
  Guiver Mythspeaker 
  Biography 
  Dreams, some say, are a window into the dreamer’s 
  mind. Sometimes these windows are broken, and the 
  viewer can only see a dark nightmare within. However, 
  there are also times when the window is opened and 
  something else creates the dream. 
  Appearance 
  In life Guiver Mythspeaker appeared as an elderly man 
  in his fifties. His face was drawn and sallow, a gift from 
  many years of studying tomes in dark rooms. Two pale 
  green eyes stared out from a face, above them rested 
  several wisps of gray hair. He usually draped his 
  hunched form with black and gray robes, the colors of 
  his Circle. When reading he would wear a makeshift 
  pince-nez perched on the end of his aquiline nose. 
  After the explosion of the cursed dream key, 
  Guiver was transformed into a creature known as a 
  dream wraith. He can only appear in Level 1 or 2 
  realities that are created by another mind. When in 
  these realities he either appears as he did in life, or as a 
  misty column filled with a purple glow. 
  Guiver Mythspeaker 
  Dream Wraith, Neutral Evil 
  Armour Class 
  6 
   
   
  Str  
  13* 
  Movement 
  12  
   
  Dex  
  19* 
  Level/Hit Dice 
  7 
   
   
  Con  
  12 
  Hit Points 
  50  
   
  Int  
  19 
  THAC0 
  18  
   
  Wis  
  13 
  Morale 
  15  
   
  Cha  
  12 
  No. of Attacks 
  1 
   
   
  XP  
  3, 000 
  Damage/Attack 
  1d4+2 (hands) 
  Special Attacks 
  Spells, Possession (see 
  below) 
  Special Defenses 
  Spells 
  Magic Resistance 
  25%  
  * These scores represent Guiver’s abilities within dreamscapes; see 
  The Nightmare Lands. 
  Background 
  Guiver Mythspeaker was born as the third son to a king 
  on the Prime Material Plane. By all appearances Guiver 
  was a normal boy, but there was one thing wrong with 
  him. Guiver suffered from an acute case of insomnia; 
  no matter how hard he tried he could not fall asleep. 
  Believing that the gods cursed him, Guiver’s father sent 
  him away to be cured by priests. For months they tried 
  everything they could think of, but unfortunately 
  nothing happened. All hope had been lost for Guiver 
  until an old wizard known as Alamor Mythspeaker 
  came to his father’s kingdom. Seeing the young prince, 
  Alamor told the king that he too had once been afflicted 
  with insomnia, but had been cured of it by his master. 
  The king asked the wizard to cure Guiver and offered 
  anything in his kingdom as payment. Alamor agreed 
  and as payment, asked that when he was finished 
  Guiver would become his apprentice. The king gladly 
  agreed and sent Guiver away with Alamor. 
  For the first few nights with Alamor, the wizard 
  did nothing to Guiver. After awhile the prince grew 
  annoyed at the wizard’s apparent laziness. It was at this 
  point that Alamor approached Guiver and told him to 
  lie down on his bed. Obeying the wizard, Guiver laid 
  down and watched, fascinated, as the wizard began to 
  cast a spell. Guiver’s eyelids started to droop and before 
  he knew it he was asleep. This was where his joy at 
  finally being able to sleep turned to dismay. He could 
  not dream. When Guiver awoke he told Alamor of the 
  predicament, but the wizard just smiled at him. He told 
  Guiver that not even magic could bring dreams to the 
  dreamless. 
  Twelve years went by and Alamor’s pupil turned 
  into a wizard with great promise. Finally, on his 
  nineteenth birthday, Alamor told his student that it was 
  time he went out into the world. As was the custom in 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT DENIZENS 
  89 
  Guiver’s world, he took his master’s surname as his 
  own. Bidding farewell to old Alamor, Guiver returned 
  to his father. 
  More years passed and when Guiver’s father died, 
  he became Court Wizard to his elder brother. Although 
  almost twenty years had passed since he had been cured 
  of insomnia, Guiver still desperately wanted to dream 
  like everyone else. His desperation led him to pursuing 
  any book that had the slightest tidbit of information 
  about dreams. While on his quest, Guiver found an old 
  journal written by a planewalker. This journal spoke 
  about the Plane of Dreams, a world where only dreams 
  existed. Guiver was ecstatic; this was exactly what he 
  wanted! Using his brother’s coffers, Guiver searched 
  far and wide for a spell that would enable him to pierce 
  the veil between his world and the Plane of Dreams. 
  One night, after fighting with his brother about his 
  expenditures, Guiver saw an old woman in the 
  courtyard beneath his window. The crone beckoned to 
  him, telling Guiver that she was a fortuneteller who had 
  lost her way. If Guiver would give her shelter for the 
  night and gold to send her on her way, she would 
  reward him richly. At first Guiver was about to refuse, 
  but then he had an idea. Perhaps the fortuneteller could 
  tell him where he would find a spell that could do what 
  he wanted. Calling down to the woman, he told her that 
  she could stay in the barn. When the morning came he 
  gave her a pouch full of gold coins and asked her about 
  his reward. Parting her lips in a smile that revealed 
  several black teeth, the woman handed Guiver a thin 
  tome before running off and out of the gate. Surprised 
  at her bizarre exit, Guiver took the book and returned to 
  his chambers. 
  Opening the book, Guiver was amazed to find the 
  exact spell he was looking for—one that could take him 
  to the Plane of Dreams. Instantly he stopped his search 
  and instead began to study the spell. Hours turned to 
  days, which turned to weeks and finally months. About 
  eight months after the woman had given him the book, 
  Guiver believed that he was ready to cast the spell. 
  Gathering all he needed, he prepared a circle in his 
  laboratory. Slowly Guiver began to speak the ancient 
  words that would unlock the doorway to dreams. 
  Unfortunately he never arrived at his goal, for as the 
  spell completed and the circle flared with spellfire, 
  Guiver found his vision blurred by mist followed by 
  darkness. 
  Coming to, Guiver found himself in a field within 
  the domain of Mordent. Believing that he was in the 
  Plane of Dreams, Guiver waited to see if anything 
  unusual would happen. For hours he sat in the middle 
  of the field, but nothing happened. Soon Guiver began 
  to realize that the spell had failed, instead of taking him 
  to the Plane of Dreams it had dumped him in a strange 
  land. Despite the spell’s failure, that night when Guiver 
  did finally fall asleep he found himself dreaming. But it 
  was nothing like the dreams that he had read about, 
  instead he dreamed that he was trapped in a cage. 
  Apparently within his grasp was a key, but no matter 
  how hard he reached for it the key was always further 
  away. This nightmare continued on for several more 
  nights, growing worse every time. Eventually Guiver 
  thought he was going to go mad. This was when he met 
  the Nightmare Man. 
  Telling Guiver that if the wizard helped him, the 
  Nightmare Man could give him access to the Plane of 
  Dreams. At first believing that he was still just having a 
  normal nightmare, Guiver tried to ignore the Nightmare 
  Man. Finally, in order to prove his reality, the 
  Nightmare Man attacked Guiver, badly injuring him. 
  Upon awaking, Guiver was shocked to see that he still 
  bore the wounds from his nightmare. Agreeing to help 
  the Nightmare Man, Guiver was taken to the mysterious 
  Nightmare Lands. Here he was given a magical item 
  known as the dream key that would help him. 
  As more time passed Guiver created the Order of 
  Twilight to help him keep his promise with the 
  Nightmare Man. At the same time, Guiver secretly 
  continued to look for a way to escape into the Plane of 
  Dreams. When Guiver was in his middle age he finally, 
  after help from the First Circle of the Order, discovered 
  a spell that could take him the final step to the Plane he 
  had sought for so long. Betraying his promise to the 
  Nightmare Man, Guiver decided to cast the spell 
  immediately—success was so close. Unfortunately one 
  of his assistants, a woman who had dedicated her life to 
  helping the Nightmare Man escape, did not like what 
  Guiver was doing. She informed the ruler of the 
  Nightmare Court of the wizard’s plans. One night while 
  he was dreaming, the Nightmare Man visited Guiver 
  secretly. Exchanging the dream key for a cursed one, 
  the Nightmare Man left Guiver believing that he had 
  won. 
  Only when his spell was completed did Guiver 
  learn of the Nightmare Man’s counter-betrayal. A 
  backlash of dream energy exploded out from the center 
  of the circle, killing all of the wizards involved. Guiver 
  felt his body burn around him, yet somehow he 
  survived. The dream key that he had held so long had 
  infused his body with the essence of the Plane of 
  Dreams. Guiver had transcended to the state of a dream 
  wraith, a form that he first enjoyed—until he 
  discovered what it had cost him. 
  Personality 
  Guiver is a bitter man, for whenever something good 
  happens to him it is soon followed by something bad. In 
  his current form as a dream wraith, Guiver is insanely 
  jealous of the Nightmare Man—a being who can exist 
  with great power in both dreams and the real world, 
  while Guiver can only exist in dreams. Guiver is also a 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT DENIZENS 
  90 
  genius, albeit a deranged one, who tries to use any 
  situation for his benefit. He’ll even help the side of 
  good if it allows him to get one up on the Nightmare 
  Man. 
  When the dream key exploded, it imbued his soul 
  with great dream powers, making him (in his mind) 
  equal to the Nightmare Man himself in the 
  dreamscapes. Because of this he takes great pride in 
  showing his powers off to “lesser” beings, something 
  that could one day prove his downfall. 
  Combat 
  Overall Guiver disdains combat, instead preferring to 
  talk his way through a situation. Of course, if he is hard 
  pressed (or he wants to possess someone—see below) 
  then he can become quite a formidable opponent. 
  Guiver’s first line of attack is his dream powers, 
  some of which he will use outside of combat. Like the 
  members of the Nightmare Court, whenever Guiver 
  uses a dream power the cost is added to the Mental 
  Fortitude of the dreamscape’s seed. The dream key 
  imbued Guiver with the following Dream Powers: Alter 
  Perception, Alter Spell, Control, Frustration, 
  Polymorph and Summon. Since Guiver lives only in 
  Reality levels one and two, he can successfully 
  dreamwalk without making a check, although he still 
  can only do it once a day. 
  Secondly, Guiver still retains his ability to cast 
  spells. Since he died as a 7th-level mage, Guiver can 
  memorize and cast spells like one. He has no spellbook 
  or list; instead he can memorize any spell in the 
  Player’s Handbook. When Guiver has used up a spell, 
  he cannot re-memorize it until the next time he appears 
  in a dream or dreamscape. Also, like every other magic-
  user in a dream, Guiver’s spells can be affected by the 
  rules of the dreamscape unless he spends Inner Strength 
  points. Guiver has 3 points of Inner Strength. 
  Finally, if all else fails, Guiver can attack with his 
  hands. In both of his forms they appear as gnarled 
  claws. Anyone struck by his claws sustains 1d4+2 
  points of damage. 
  Guiver also has the ability to possess a physical 
  body. To do this he must first attack the person, usually 
  a dream seed. When the person’s hit points drop to 0 
  they must instantly make a save vs. death magic. If they 
  succeed, Guiver is repelled and kicked out of the 
  dreamscape. If they fail, Guiver is able to possess them 
  for a time equal to 1d6 x Guiver’s Con days. During 
  this time Guiver has access to the victim’s memories in 
  order to more successfully pretend to be the person. 
  Once each day the victim must make another Save vs. 
  Death Magic. If they fail, they remain possessed. If they 
  succeed they break the possession and Guiver is 
  repelled. If this happens, Guiver cannot dreamwalk or 
  attempt to possess another person for 1d4 weeks. As 
  long as the victim doesn’t break the possession, at the 
  end of the allotted time of possession, the possessed 
  body collapses from exhaustion. Guiver leaves the body 
  and the victim must make a System Shock roll. If they 
  fail they must make a Madness check, if they succeed 
  nothing out of the ordinary happens. 
  Because Guiver is undead he can be turned by 
  clerics as if he were a Special Undead. 
  New Item: Dream Key 
  The dream key is a rare magical item that enables its 
  owner to successfully dreamwalk once per day. It also 
  gives the owner the ability to use the Alter Perception 
  and Summon dream powers, twice per dream each. No 
  mental fortitude points have to be spent; instead these 
  points are added to the mental fortitude points of the 
  dream seed. 
  Dream keys can only exist in the dream world, 
  when a person is given one in a dream the key appears 
  to be a normal key made from a glowing gold material. 
  When they wake up the key is nowhere to be seen, but 
  as soon as they fall asleep (or dreamwalk) the key 
  appears in their dream self’s hand. Because the Dream 
  Key is intangible, it cannot be sold, only given away in 
  a dream. 
  Rumors exist about cursed dream keys. They 
  appear to be like normal dream keys except they cannot 
  be given away. Whenever a power of the dream key is 
  used, a wave of energy flows out from the key in a 5-
  foot radius. Anyone caught in this wave must make a 
  save vs. spell or lose 1d10 points of Intelligence. If a 
  person’s Intelligence score drops to 0 or below, they 
  die. 
  XP: 10, 000 Gold: N/A 
  Adventure Ideas 
  # At the end of their last adventure, the PCs arrive at 
  a place where they can safely sleep. This can be a 
  farmstead, a settlement, a country manor etc. They 
  fall asleep from exhaustion and find themselves 
  having a very vivid dream (which can be tailored 
  specifically for each PC). Upon awakening they 
  find that instead of being in the place they went to 
  sleep, they are now in an asylum. The only clue to 
  how they came to be there is a black medallion 
  with the Symbol of Twilight on it. Moments after 
  awakening the director of the Asylum enters and 
  notifies them that they have been asleep for the 
  past two weeks after being brought in by the sheriff 
  of the local town. If the PCs press further they 
  discover that the sheriff found them roaming 
  around the streets attacking invisible figures and 
  yelling indecipherable phrases (in other words they 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT DENIZENS 
  91 
  were daydreaming horrible nightmares). Is this the 
  truth, or are they being used by the Order for some 
  nefarious purpose? 
  # While passing through a small Mordentish town 
  with a nearby forest, the PCs hear local rumors 
  about a tower in the forest. Known as Cross Keep, 
  the tower has been at the center of many myths and 
  legends since the founding of the town many years 
  earlier. If the PCs investigate a farmer leads them 
  to the ruins of Cross Keep, but he will refuse to go 
  on with them. Inside the PCs might simply find the 
  rotting bodies of Guiver and his assistants, or 
  perhaps a necromancer possessed by Guiver in 
  order to carry on his mission in life has raised their 
  bodies as undead. Whatever happens in Cross 
  Keep, one of the PCs is marked out by Guiver. 
  Several adventures later the character dreams about 
  an old man who goes by the name of Guiver 
  Mythspeaker. If the PCs are members of the Order 
  (or simply woke up in an asylum with the Order 
  symbols around their necks), Guiver may attempt 
  to possess the PC and find out all he knows. On the 
  other hand, Guiver might try to convince the PC to 
  help him defeat the Nightmare Man by telling him 
  the Man’s weaknesses. 
  # The PCs arrive in a settlement to find the townsfolk 
  in a state of mixed panic and fear. Something 
  terrible has been happening over the past few 
  weeks, and it has something to do with the Order of 
  Twilight. This terrible thing could be that all the 
  children in the town have fallen into a deep coma 
  from which they cannot awake, although they twist 
  and scream in their sleep. Perhaps townsfolk have 
  gone missing and found in their place are straw 
  figurines. This all leads to a cell of the Second 
  Circle located in or nearby the town. They are a) 
  putting the children into a magical, nightmare-
  filled sleep in order to study how the Nightmare 
  Court feeds off their victims (perhaps they even 
  have the help of one of the Court members) or b) 
  they are using the kidnapped townsfolk to study 
  certain dream-related effects (how to provoke 
  nightmares, how does extended sleep deprivation 
  affect dreams etc). The cell may have a member 
  who is “helping” the PCs in their investigation, 
  making sure that they go nowhere near where the 
  Order is. 
  # One of the PCs is captured by the Nightmare Court 
  and is slowly being fed off within one of his 
  nightmares. This nightmare should be tied in with 
  either the PC’s background or a harrowing event 
  that has recently occurred. Somehow (through a 
  chance meeting, through a referral or through 
  actually knowing one) the PC is brought to a dream 
  specialist (perhaps a member of one of the lower 
  Circles of the Order). He tells the other PCs that 
  their friend is a prisoner of the Nightmare Court 
  and can only be rescued if his friends travel into his 
  own nightmare. Using hypnosis or magic, the 
  dream specialist puts the PCs into a hypnotic state 
  and guides them into their friend’s nightmare. Here 
  they encounter all sorts of aspects about the seed 
  PC, perhaps even bits of information that could be 
  damaging to their relationship with the PC. The 
  Nightmare Court may even play up these bits of 
  information in order to separate the party and 
  prevent them from succeeding (or at least make it 
  hard). During their attempts to free their friend, one 
  of the PCs discovers a key made from glowing 
  energy. Taking the key they are filled with the 
  feeling of great strength and power—they have a 
  Dream Key! But is this key the real thing, or a 
  cursed version waiting to destroy the PC when they 
  use it? 
  ! 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT DENIZENS 
  92 
  THE NEW GUYS IN 
  VALLAKI 
  Wyan Twichell & Marcel Vendark 
  by Andrew Wyatt & Andrew Cermak 
  wyatt@kargatane.com cermak@kargatane.com 
   
  INTRODUCTION 
  uestions, questions, questions. You 
  miserable prisoners never let up with the 
  questions, do you? “Who are those two new 
  men skulking about the bookstore?” “What 
  happened to Holder Crosspen?” “Why haven’t we seen 
  Drawden Selrach lately?” “Is it winter yet?” “Are you 
  sure it’s safe to eat this?” “Why can’t I have my feet 
  back?” “What’s that slurping sound?” “What have you 
  done to my face?” Blah blah blah—enough! 
  Very well. I grant that some of your questions are 
  worthy of answers. Except for that one about your 
  feet—that’s for us to know. As for your queries about 
  the change in our personnel, and that month or two 
  when you claim we forgot to feed all of you, I promise 
  that we shall provide you with the full details. 
  But that is a tale for another night. 
  Wyan Twichell 
  Male Human, 5th-Level Conjurer 
  Strength 
  10 (0) 
  Dexterity 
  10 (0) 
  Constitution 
  9 (–1) 
  Intelligence 
  16 (+3) 
  Wisdom 
  11 (0) 
  Charisma 
  12 (+1) 
  Fortitude Save 
  0 
  Reflex Save 
  +1 
  Will Save 
  +4 
  Alignment 
  Neutral Evil 
  Speed 
  30 ft. 
  Size 
  M (6 ft.) 
  Initiative 
  +0 
  Armor Class 
  10 
  Hit Points 
  11 
  Attack Bonus 
  +2 
  Skills: Bluff +4, Concentration +4, Knowledge 
  (outsiders) +7, Knowledge (werebeasts) +6, Knowledge 
  (undead) +6, Profession (scribe) +4, Ride +2, Spellcraft 
  +10, Spot +2, Swim +2. 
  Feats: Brew Potion, Craft Wondrous Item, Extend 
  Spell, Scribe Scroll, Spell Mastery (comprehend 
  languages, detect magic, summon monster I). 
  Special: Cat familiar 
  Languages: Balok, Darkonese, Mordentish, 
  Lamordian. 
  Appearance 
  Wyan Twichell is a husky, unassuming man in his 
  middle twenties. Though he has sturdy legs and wide 
  shoulders, his round stomach and pudgy cheeks betray 
  a fondness for food. His skin is pale, marked by acne 
  scarring on his face and scribe’s calluses on his hands. 
  He wears a full beard and mustache, keeping them 
  neatly trimmed. His straight, strawberry-blond hair is 
  cut to just above his shoulders. Despite his fair 
  appearance, Wyan inexplicably insists that he is half-
  Vistani, a baseless claim. 
  In spite of his wealthy background, Wyan prefers 
  to be outfitted as inconspicuously and comfortably as 
  possible. Normally he dresses as a cloistered scribe 
  might, in a simple robe and slippers. As Wyan rarely 
  leaves the confines of the bookshop, this attire serves 
  his purposes. He keeps a finely crafted silver dagger 
  tucked under the belt of his robe at all times. 
  Q 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT DENIZENS 
  93 
  Background 
  Wyan Twichell was born in Nartok in western 
  Necropolis, the son of an influential merchant. Wyan’s 
  father sat on the council of Nartok’s dominant merchant 
  house, which controlled the lumber trade and many 
  local craft guilds. Growing up in relative privilege, 
  Wyan was a keenly intelligent, if mildly spoiled, young 
  man. From an early age, he developed a fascination 
  with the occult, much to the consternation of his 
  parents. Wyan loathed traditional schooling, but 
  devoted nearly all of his time to teaching himself from 
  books. He took a particular interest in the creatures that 
  moved through the shadows, doggedly pursuing lore on 
  the undead, werebeasts, and stranger things. 
  Wyan was drawn to the Kargatane primarily 
  because he vaguely suspected the truth: that the 
  Kargat’s highest echelons included vampires. However, 
  Wyan’s studies led him to the conclusion that 
  vampirism is an exalted state, where magnificent 
  undead lords engage in debauchery all eternity. Wyan 
  was seduced by the promise of power, pleasure, and 
  immortality, and blinded to the horrors of vampirism. 
  He traveled across Darkon, not-so-subtly ingratiating 
  himself to Kargat agents whenever he could. Although 
  he was eventually inducted into the Martira Bay 
  Kargatane, Wyan’s openly voiced suspicions about his 
  masters were shocking both in their stupidity and 
  audacity. It was only a matter of days before Lady 
  Kazandra sent him packing for Vallaki. 
  Personality 
  Wyan has a generally expressive and sensitive 
  personality. He is a good judge of character and 
  sensitive to people’s moods and motivations. Yet he has 
  little interest in what others think or do, and quickly 
  becomes bored when anyone else is talking. He is 
  always ready to offer his opinion, even if it was not 
  solicited. Wyan has a habit of sabotaging every instance 
  of social interaction with his cynicism and acidic 
  disdain. He also has a terrible temper. Even minor 
  irritations prompt him to scream colorful obscenities, 
  destroy objects, and threaten others with violence. He is 
  a coward by nature, however, and is infamous for 
  backing down instantly when others call his bluff. 
  Impatient and constantly irritated, Wyan treats 
  every conversation as a strain on his composure. He 
  fidgets and paces relentlessly, finishes others’ 
  sentences, and interrupts with his own thoughts and 
  anecdotes. He is a pathological liar, although not a 
  particularly good one. Nearly every statement he makes 
  is an exaggeration, and he constructs elaborate stories 
  about his past, none of which the other Kargatane 
  believe. 
  Wyan is fairly intolerant of his fellow outcasts at 
  the bookshop. He has little respect and almost no 
  patience for any of them. He also suspects the lot of 
  them to be dangerously insane, mainly because of their 
  devotion to their desiccated “leader” in the attic. 
  Similarly, the other Kargatane are unanimous in their 
  loathing of Wyan, whom they all find talkative, 
  immature, self-important, and generally abrasive. Wyan 
  simply tries to keep his distance from his fellows and 
  concentrate on his research, but his tendency to open 
  his mouth at inopportune moments sometimes gets the 
  better of him. 
  As a conjurer, Wyan is deeply interested in 
  outsiders and planar cosmology. Though he was 
  initially interested in all creatures of darkness, the 
  power and mystery of demons, elementals, and the like 
  has proven tantalizing for Wyan. He is constantly 
  writing essays on his personal planar theories, 
  speculating groundlessly on topics such as the 
  geography of the afterlife, infernal hierarchies, or the 
  social habits of elementals. His spell research focuses 
  on the summoning of outsiders and surviving the 
  eventual rampage of such creatures when he can no 
  longer control them. He is very meticulous about 
  protecting himself during summonings, though he 
  thinks nothing of unleashing increasingly powerful 
  outsiders on the Land of Mists. Nonetheless, he has had 
  several close calls over the past few years, and it is 
  probably only a matter of time before an annoyed 
  outsider finally catches up with Wyan. 
  Wyan has slid down a gradual slope towards 
  depravity for the past ten years. No longer a mere 
  unethical liar, Wyan has virtually no values other than 
  his own lust for knowledge and power. He is even 
  vaguely hostile towards innocence and goodness, which 
  he sees as weaknesses to be undermined for his own 
  amusement. The sole exception to Wyan’s lack of 
  compassion is his familiar, Sweetums, an obscenely fat 
  orange tabby cat that Wyan spoils and dotes on to the 
  point of embarrassment. 
  Wizard Spellbook (4/4/3/2): 0—All; 1st—alarm, 
  comprehend languages, expeditious retreat, hold 
  portal, identify, protection from chaos/evil/good/law, 
  spider climb, summon monster I, unseen servant; 2nd—
  alter self, arcane lock, bull’s strength, cat’s grace, 
  detect thoughts, endurance, invisibility, locate object, 
  misdirection, summon monster II, summon swarm; 
  3rd—clairaudience/clairvoyance, dispel magic, 
  explosive runes, fly, gaseous form, haste, magic circle 
  against chaos/evil/good/law, summon monster III, 
  tongues, water breathing. 
  Prohibited School: Evocation 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT DENIZENS 
  94 
  Marcel Vendark 
  Human Male, 14th level Wizard, 2nd level Fighter 
  Strength 
  14 (+2) 
  Dexterity 
  10 (0) 
  Constitution 
  12 (+1) 
  Intelligence 
  20 (+5) 
  Wisdom 
  10 (0) 
  Charisma 
  15 (+2) 
  Fortitude Save 
  +7 
  Reflex Save 
  +4 
  Will Save 
  +9 
  Alignment 
  Lawful Evil 
  Speed 
  30 ft. 
  Size 
  M 
  Initiative 
  +0 
  Armor Class 
  10 (15 in chain mail, 16 in mail 
  with iron mask) 
  Hit Points 
  50 
  Attack Bonus 
  +9/+2 
  Skills: Alchemy +17, Climb +5, Concentration +15, 
  Intimidate +8, Jump +5, Knowledge (arcana) +17, 
  Knowledge (Kargatane) +10, Knowledge (Necropolis) 
  +8, Knowledge (Tepest) +5, Knowledge (undead) +10, 
  Listen +3, Ride +5, Scry +8, Spellcraft +17, Spot +3, 
  Swim +5 
  Feats: Brew Potion, Combat Casting, Empower Spell, 
  Enlarge Spell, Expertise, Improved Disarm, Maximize 
  Spell, Quicken Spell, Scribe Scroll, Spell Mastery 
  (Animate Dead, Darkness, Dispel Magic, Fear, Sleep), 
  Spell Penetration 
  Languages: Tepestani, Balok, Darkonese, Falkovnian, 
  Lamordian, Mordentish 
  Appearance 
  Vendark constantly wears a heavy hooded cloak, even 
  when it is impractical. He favors it because it makes 
  him look sinister. Added to his impressive height (6’2”) 
  and frame (230 lbs.), the effect is quite intimidating. 
  Beneath the cloak, he usually wears simple tunics and 
  pants, but will occasionally don chain mail if he 
  believes combat will be likely. He considers the extra 
  protection a fair trade for the loss in spell reliability; a 
  few unfortunate experiences haven’t yet shaken him of 
  this opinion. 
  Beneath his hood, Marcel is rather unremarkable. 
  His hair is dirty blonde, and is face is clean-shaven and 
  somewhat round. His rather baby-faced features are a 
  constant aggravation to him, and he often alters his 
  appearance with magic so as to appear more 
  impressive. When this is impossible, he dons an iron 
  mask that is suitably sinister looking, but it restricts his 
  vision and makes it hard to speak and breathe, making 
  it far from an ideal solution. 
  Background 
  Marcel Vendark was born in Tepest thirty-two years 
  ago. His mother raised him alone; he never knew his 
  father, and his mother never spoke of him. She was a 
  wise-woman, a seller of and tonics and folk medicine to 
  the people of Kellee, who like most Tepestani were 
  distrustful of more advanced methods of physic. She 
  was also secretly a witch, a worshipper of Hala and a 
  wielder of that strange source of magic known as the 
  Weave. 
  Marcel had a difficult time as a child. Though the 
  villagers made use of his mother’s cures from necessity, 
  they never trusted her, and this superstitious avoidance 
  extended to Marcel as well. Marcel had no friends 
  among the village children, and their teasing and insults 
  made it clear that his mother was a large part of the 
  reason. Marcel quickly grew to resent his mother and 
  the life she led. Marcel also envied his mother, for the 
  sorcerous powers that came so naturally to her were 
  completely foreign to him. Unlike her, he had no in-
  born talent for manipulating the Weave, and this failing 
  served to further separate mother from son. 
  When Marcel was nine, a villager who had gone to 
  Marcel’s mother for a tonic died a few days later. While 
  the cause of death was never solidly determined, it did 
  not take long for the villagers to blame the wise-
  woman. She barely escaped Tepest with her life, Marcel 
  in tow. They fled north to Darkon, where the people 
  were slightly less distrustful of the mystical. 
  They arrived at a small Darkonian village, where 
  his mother planned to continue as a wise-woman, but 
  Marcel had other plans. That night, while his mother 
  slept, Marcel crept away with all the money they had, 
  and fled into the woods. As luck would have it, he ran 
  into a small band of Vistani, and in exchange for all of 
  his money they agreed to take him with them to the 
  nearest town. This they did, where they promptly sold 
  him to an agent of the Kargatane. 
  The Kargatane in question had intended to use 
  Marcel solely for labor, but when he found just how 
  sharp the child’s mind was, and how filled with anger, 
  he quickly realized that here was the potential for 
  something far greater. A man of learning and no small 
  amount of arcane power, he took Marcel on as an 
  apprentice. 
  Though Marcel lacked the inherent magical 
  prowess of his mother, he proved to be quite apt at 
  more scholarly magical pursuits. Over time, Marcel 
  grew to be a powerful wizard, outstripping his master 
  by leaps and bounds. Once he was certain he had 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT DENIZENS 
  95 
  learned all he could, it was a small matter to engineer 
  his master’s death and usurp his holdings. 
  Vendark has since risen rapidly in the ranks of the 
  Kargatane, but he is not satisfied by his status in what 
  he perceives as a pitiful organization. Should the 
  Kargatane ever discover the secret of eternal life, he 
  will be only too happy to participate, but in the 
  meantime he forges his own plans for power. 
  Unfortunately, to date, all of those plans have come 
  to naught. Vendark has traveled all over Darkon, and 
  outside it as well, setting numerous schemes both 
  magical and mundane into motion, but despite his 
  brilliance and power his efforts have always been 
  thwarted by the untimely interference of do-gooding 
  louts. He has sent most of them to their graves, but 
  never, it seems, before they have ruined his hard work 
  and careful staging. Because of his arrogance, he seems 
  unwilling to acknowledge his own part in these 
  numerous failures. 
  Personality 
  It’s unfortunate that psychology is such an undeveloped 
  discipline in the Demiplane, because Vendark has 
  “Case Study” written all over him. Feelings of 
  inadequacy over his lack of inherent sorcerous power, 
  combined with rebelliousness hatred for authority 
  springing from resentment toward his mother, enhanced 
  by paranoia springing from persecution as a child, and 
  no doubt multiplied by a good old-fashioned chemical 
  imbalance, have turned Vendark into a cauldron of 
  megalomaniacal obsession and seething frustration. 
  Vendark is not happy unless he is in complete, 
  unwavering control of everything and everyone around 
  him, and in a place like Ravenloft where control is 
  largely determined by outside forces Vendark is certain 
  to be frustrated by failure his entire life. Vendark, of 
  course, is unwilling to accept this. 
  Vendark’s temper is truly epic. The slightest hint 
  that things are not going as smoothly as they should be 
  can send him into a tantrum. His wizardly power, 
  physical presence and foul mouth make these fits of 
  pique scary to witness. Vendark is also given to 
  histrionics; he has a tendency to over-dramatize, and 
  likes to talk aloud to himself about how brilliant his 
  schemes are and how his triumph is inevitable. It would 
  be amusing if he weren’t so serious about it. Finally, 
  Vendark hates to be shown up . . . at anything. Anyone 
  who demonstrates that they can do something better 
  than he can moves to the top of his enemies list. 
  Combat 
  Vendark is generally content to let whatever minions he 
  has on hand do the fighting for him, while he cackles 
  mockingly in the background. Once the opponent is 
  properly softened up, he steps in, slinging away with 
  spells. He’s also pretty handy with a sword if it comes 
  down to that. As mentioned above, Vendark sometimes 
  wears chainmail into combat. When he does so, his 
  Armor Class improves to 15, but he suffers a 30% 
  chance of spells with a somatic component misfiring. 
  Wearing his iron mask increases his Armor Class by an 
  additional point, but incurs a cumulative 10% chance of 
  misfire for spells with a vocal component, and 
  additionally inflicts a minus –1 penalty to all Spot and 
  Listen checks. 
  Wizard Spells Prepared (4/5/5/5/5/3/3/2): 0—arcane 
  mark, detect magic, light, read magic; 1st—change 
  self, chill touch, hypnotism, magic missile, sleep x 2, 
  2nd—darkness x 2, darkvision, mirror image, spectral 
  hand; 3rd—dispel magic x 2, hold person x 2, vampiric 
  touch; 4th—confusion, emotion, fear x 2, phantasmal 
  killer; 5th—animate dead x 2, cone of cold, teleport; 
  6th—chain lightning, mass suggestion, project image; 
  7th—control undead, finger of death. 
  Current Sketch 
  Vendark’s most recent scheme has taken him to Martira 
  Bay, where he is working on the creation of a powerful 
  elixir he calls the Festering Ball of Hatred. This 
  substance evokes an overpowering, undirected rage in 
  those it contacts; with it, entire armies could be led to 
  destroy themselves. Because of the dangers inherent in 
  developing a substance that so alters the emotions, 
  Vendark has begun animating a small force of the 
  undead. Their lack of emotions makes them ideal 
  gophers and assistants for this particular task. They also 
  make excellent cannon fodder should something 
  unforeseen occur. 
  ! 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT DENIZENS 
  96 
  TSUU-Y-TEKE 
  A Land Where Daylight Offers No Protection 
  by Luiz Eduardo Neves Peret 
  rakshasa2001@hotmail.com 
   
  Author’s Note: The tale of Tsuu-Y-Teke is loosely 
  based on more than a decade of researches made among 
  Brazilian native tribes, with elements borrowed from 
  Central and North American ethnical groups that 
  apparently have no blood relationship among them, but 
  do share common tales and beliefs. This article is 
  dedicated to the first inhabitants of these three 
  continents, in the year when Brazil celebrates the 500th 
  anniversary of the Portuguese arrival.) 
  BACKGROUND 
  n the beginning of all things, there was no 
  light, no sun, no moon, no stars, only the 
  Lubu Byu-Y-Teke (“Dark Tent of Rain”—
  the night sky). There was no way of 
  counting time, the crops were meager for the lack of 
  light, the Kuni-Bina (restless souls) rampantly walked 
  the dark forests, and the animals were intelligent and 
  could speak among themselves and with the Inan 
  (people). Each animal group had its own Bedu 
  (shaman), responsible for the welfare of the race as a 
  whole. 
  The gods were worshiped by both man and animal, 
  as most gods were animals as well. Fire was a gift from 
  Haloe, the Puma, and with it the Inan were able to find 
  some relief from the darkness and cold winds. But that 
  was not enough. 
  Then a young brave shaman called Kananciwe was 
  blessed by Haloe and went deep into the forests, 
  seeking for a light that might be permanent. He fought a 
  Kuni-Bina and was able to find an answer from the 
  restless spirit. 
  It told him that in a forgotten age, before the 
  Beginning, the Greater Spirit had shared a bit of His 
  wisdom with the most powerful and ancient of the 
  animal gods, and those had shared such wisdom and 
  power with their own Bedu. He had given gifts and 
  guardianship of powers and knowledge to each one of 
  the animal races. 
  Among them, Haloe (the Puma), protector of all 
  hunters, had received power over fire and all creatures 
  on the ground, and Heresa Heri (the Giant Vulture 
  King) had received the skies, disease and death. It was 
  said that Heresa Heri did not even come down to earth 
  to sleep, preferring to rest on the rainy clouds. The 
  Vulture King was the most beautiful of all birds, as his 
  feathers were white and he had a shining, silver and 
  golden plumage cascading over his head and shoulders. 
  The Kuni-Bina suggested that the headdress might be 
  more than a mere adornment. 
  Kananciwe decided to see it for himself. He 
  prepared an herbal medicine that feigned death, keeping 
  his own Kuni (spirit) alert just outside his body, and so 
  he managed to lure the scavenging animals to him. The 
  blue fly, seneschal of the Vulture King, told its master 
  of the new, still-warm human corpse found on the top 
  of a hill, and that he was no less the greatest hero of the 
  Inan. The voracious bird decided it would be an 
  unparalleled pleasure to eat the remains of such a hero 
  and plummeted down on him from the high skies. 
  But Kananciwe’s own spirit was ready for the 
  attack. He quickly got up, jumping and grappling the 
  creature. During the brief battle, he showered the bird 
  with another magical potion that prevented spellcasting 
  and reduced the bird’s size to that of a normal vulture. 
  Unable to cast spells and being true to his coward 
  nature, the Vulture King accepted defeat, saying he 
  would gladly barter anything for his freedom. 
  The Inan asked about the secret of the Vulture’s 
  shining headdress. Dismayed by the hero’s knowledge 
  about his most well-guarded secret, the enchanted bird 
  confessed that the Vulture God, upon receiving the gift 
  of the skies, had imbued him, his most devoted Bedu, 
  with the ability of enchanting pieces of crystal, 
  diamonds and other gems, turning them into a 
  permanent type of light unknown at that time. But 
  instead of sharing that light with all, he had decided to 
  enchant the gems only for himself, and fused them with 
  his own body, creating that shining feathered headdress. 
  Kananciwe was enraged at such vile treachery. 
  Heresa Heri explained that the Vulture God had given 
  him the gift and ordered him to enchant the stones, but 
  I 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT LOCALES 
  97 
  not to scatter them throughout the skies. The Inan was 
  not convinced at all and, taking one claw of puma, a 
  present from the Haloe Bedu, he started to cut the 
  creature’s scalp, scattering the white feathers in the 
  winds. 
  Feeling great pain, the Heresa Heri let go of some 
  starlight, and immediately all nature understood what 
  had happened and how the Vulture had betrayed them. 
  At the same time, all vultures flew to rescue their 
  leader. 
  Spotting the human shaman, they thought better of 
  it and decided to wait for the best moment. 
  Kananciwe was happy but not satisfied with the 
  light. He took more feathers and this time blood flowed 
  from the wounds, covering the vulture’s head, neck and 
  beak. The feathers reassumed their true shape as gems 
  and then turned into stars and constellations. But the 
  sky was still deep blue and cloudy. Then the human 
  shaman once again hurt the bird, and the full moon 
  spread its silver light over the land. 
  There were no more silver feathers on the top of 
  the vulture’s head, only a bunch of golden ones. Heresa 
  Heri told the hero that those were not enchanted and 
  there would come no light from them. Suspecting 
  another lie, the hero cut deeply into the evil bird’s flesh, 
  and all golden feathers came together, suddenly lighting 
  up as a large bonfire. The flames spread more and 
  more, and the sky turned pink and orange, as the giant 
  star, the Tsuu (Sun) finally shone. Then Haloe took 
  notice of it, and as it was made of pure fire the Puma 
  held power over it and renamed himself, from that day 
  on, as Haloe-Tsuu (Sun Puma). 
  The new light dazed Kananciwe, and tears rolled 
  down his cheeks. He loosened his grip on the Vulture 
  King that regained his size and powers at once. 
  Heresa Heri immediately and fiercely attacked the 
  surprised hero, killing him on the spot. The Sun Puma 
  saw that new treason, and immediately condemned the 
  Vulture for his selfish deeds. 
  Heresa Heri was cursed to never again face the 
  sunlight, lest he be utterly destroyed and become an 
  incorporeal Kuni. His only trophies from his victory in 
  that doomed encounter would be his still white feathers 
  that set him apart from the other vultures and the dried 
  blood over his head, neck and beak, that formed a deep 
  red bonnet. He was driven to the deepest caves by the 
  scorching rays of the sun, but before he could escape 
  the burning light mortally wounded him. From the dark 
  tunnels he summoned the other vultures and their 
  shamans, and they all gathered in a ceremonial rite that 
  would preserve his spirit, as he did not want to become 
  a Kuni. 
  As he was prepared and buried, he cursed the Inan 
  that had found his secret, the Kuni that had told the Inan 
  about it, the puma that had taken his most prized gift of 
  light from him, and the very skies for now being the 
  house of the light he would never be able to behold 
  again. Some powerful spirit must have heard his curse, 
  as the puma lost a bit of his control over the sun, and 
  the giant star never again fully left the sky. The night 
  was over forever and our lands were taken away from 
  the rest of the large forests around us. And we, the true 
  descendants of the hero Kananciwe and his tribe, must 
  now go on with our lives in a burning land under the 
  endless daylight, awaiting the time when the sun will 
  finally give us more relief than one only night per 
  month. Yet, we fear and despise the dark, for the 
  Vulture King might still be somewhere out there, 
  waiting for the night to come as well . . .” 
  The Land 
  Tsuu-Y-Teke (TSOO-ytek) means “House of the Sun” 
  in a primitive language now dead on the world from 
  where its people were taken. The name could not be 
  more fitting, as it seems that the sun never truly sets. 
  The golden sphere shines in the clear, cloudless sky 
  from 4 AM to 8 PM almost every day, except in the 
  short two-month winter when it rises one hour later and 
  sets one hour earlier. “Rising” and “setting” are dubious 
  concepts for the inhabitants, though, as when there 
  should be night, the sky remains pink and orange 
  instead, in an eternal twilight. During these few hours, 
  the myriad stars and constellations shine with a 
  somehow diffuse silver light, and the constellations’ 
  outlines can be easily recognized. The moon almost 
  never leaves the sky, circulating around the ringing 
  mountains in an elliptic orbit and staying full for about 
  a week per month. Meanwhile, the new moon lasts for 
  the one dark night in the month, called “Ahadu-Lubu-
  Byu” (aha-DOO loo-BOO bee-OO) “The True Night”, 
  for it reminds the elder people of the night they used to 
  know. The winter brings the only rain clouds, although 
  they are weak and the water normally evaporates even 
  before touching the rocky soil, adding to the already 
  unbearable heat but making it somewhat moist. 
  All this continuous light and heat account for the 
  dryness of the land. Where once there was a lush 
  rainforest, now there are only deserted plains, 
  tablelands and canyons, stretching over more than 
  5,000 square miles. Cacti and other dryland-dwelling 
  plants are common, while the few fertile areas are 
  cultivated, producing wheat and corn. Tree groves are 
  rare, small and scattered, giving a small relief from the 
  scorching sun in fertile patches of land around the 
  rivers. These are narrow and almost devoid of fish. In 
  the deep canyons the only permanent shadowy areas 
  can be found. These places are crowded with a complex 
  and a little weird ecosystem, including wild giant 
  buffalo, a few giant antelopes, coyotes, pumas, sheep 
  and goats, many types of insects, spiders, snakes and 
  scorpions, watched from above by flocks of common 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT LOCALES 
  98 
  and giant vultures that nest on the steep mesas. The 
  people believe the gods blessed the giant animals, as 
  they are too large for the meager food sources the 
  domain provides. The domestic animals never grow to 
  giant proportions like the wild ones. This is considered 
  an omen, and the Inan have never tried to domesticate 
  the buffalo or the antelope. 
  The mountains, hills and mesas are riddled with 
  caves and labyrinthine tunnels. The cultists of the 
  Vulture God meet in such places to commune with their 
  evil leader. No people from the pueblos will willingly 
  venture inside the caves. 
  Cultural Level 
  Stone Age. Fire and the wheel are known and used by 
  everyone. However, the people have no knowledge of 
  fine metalworking, relying on clay and cut stone to 
  make most common objects. Glasswork is almost 
  unknown (the finest examples are crude vials blessed to 
  hold holy water), and the extremely rare trees are left 
  where they are, so woodcarving is almost nonexistent. 
  The only “written” language is the quipu, a complex 
  system of knotted strings made of wool or leather, used 
  to keep records and send important messages. Wall 
  painting is highly symbolic and serves religious or 
  magic purposes. 
   
  The People 
  When Tsuu-Y-Teke was formed about twelve hundred 
  aborigines were drawn into it. They gather in small 
  communities of more or less one hundred each, in 
  pueblo-like villages along the small patches of fertile 
  land and under the few shadows of the canyons. These 
  aborigines name themselves “Inan”, (ee-NAN) or “true 
  people”, in contrast with the “Kuni” (koo-NEE), as they 
  call the spirits that are believed to infest the land in 
  animal, human or monstrous disguise. The Inan speak a 
  language unknown to any other domain. 
  These people are sturdy, tanned and weathered by 
  sunny days and nights. They are prodigious hunters, 
  always carrying bows made of antelope’s antlers, stone 
  clubs and spears. They dress comfortable leather and 
  wool clothes, wear moccasins and adorn their heads 
  with bright-feathered headdresses. 
  Also, their bodies are covered with tattoos 
  representing age, sex, marital status, their professions 
  and any important moments during their lives. 
  As a rule, the Inan are a reclusive folk, and all 
  strangers, whatever the race, are seen with suspicion, as 
  they might be Kuni-Bina (koo-NEE bee-NAH), evil 
  spirits disguised to bring them their ultimate doom. 
  Spellcasters are specially feared, unless they have some 
  obvious link with nature—as druids, caretakers and 
  other nature priests. 
  Most Inan are hunters, shepherds and craftsmen. A 
  few brave ones are miners, collecting gems from the 
  canyon caves to adorn their stone totems. Gems and 
  jewels have no monetary value for them, but the cultists 
  of the Vulture God often attack the mines to rob the 
  gems (see below). 
  The Law 
  The Inan live in pueblos carved in the canyons, 
  cultivating wheat and corn and herding goats and sheep. 
  A Council of Elders made up of both men and women 
  rules each pueblo. In the time before, only men were 
  allowed in the Council, but a long time ago the women 
  rebelled and conquered a position of power in all 
  villages, so they now share the management 
  responsibility. 
  They meet in the Sacred Mask Hall once per month 
  to debate and decide over village matters. 
  There is regular trade between the villages, as well 
  as annual meetings to play competitive games, perform 
  maturity tests and celebrate marriages. The Inan have 
  no coin and prefer to barter for goods or services. 
  Because of this, everyone is expected to work hard and 
  produce something to barter with. Thievery, cheating 
  and conning are almost nonexistent, and punished with 
  a special, depreciative tattoo and further expelling from 
  all villages. 
  Such unfortunate rogues must fend for themselves 
  in the barren wastelands and rarely survive to the next 
  season. Murder is punished with a ceremonial sacrifice 
  to the Sun Puma, to “cleanse the spirit.” The body is 
  cremated and the ashes are scattered to fertilize the soil. 
  The Cult of Haloe-Tsuu, the Sun Puma, is devoted 
  to help the villages develop under the adverse weather 
  conditions. They help with the herds, crops and all 
  celebrations, also teaching the young about the social 
  and moral rules of the Inan. They try their best to keep 
  the culture intact, as they know the destructive effects 
  of drastic changes. And they also have the job of 
  burying the dead (that usually mummify naturally) and 
  cremating sacrificed murderers and dead victims of the 
  Plague (see below). 
  Specialty priests from the Cult of Haloe-Tsuu, 
  called “Pumasoncs” (Hearts of the Puma) must be Inan 
  of any non-evil alignment, with a minimum of 11 
  Wisdom and 13 Constitution. They have major access 
  to All, Animal, Elemental (Air/Fire only), Healing, 
  Plant, Summoning, Sun and Weather and minor access 
  to Combat, Divination, Guardian and Protection. They 
  have the following granted powers: turn undead; 3rd 
  level: remove fear on up to one person per level, once 
  per person/day; 5th level: incite courage/hope once per 
  day, two persons/level. 9th level: shapechange into a 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT LOCALES 
  99 
  puma once a day, for a maximum of 18 turns (3 hours). 
  They are restricted to leather armor, non-metallic 
  bludgeoning weapons and stone spears. They are the 
  only ones who actively do some woodcarving, creating 
  elaborate quarterstaves and spears. Their holy symbol is 
  the claw of a puma, worn in a necklace. 
  There is another cult in Tsuu-Y-Teke, the dreaded 
  Cult of the Vulture God. Most people fear this sect, but 
  a few actually seek the Vulture God and his priests, 
  specially those people who are too lazy and careless, 
  unable to produce nothing and unwilling to try. Besides 
  such people, the common and giant vultures are faithful 
  worshippers (see below). The cult is very small among 
  humans, and there are perhaps no more than half dozen 
  priests of 9th level and higher, but the vultures are 
  another story altogether. 
  The Cult of the Vulture God (not recommended for 
  PCs) requires its specialty priests, called “Ohoty Bedu” 
  (Disease Shamans) to be Inan of any non-good 
  alignment, with the same ability minimums. The 
  spheres are the same, except that these priests also have 
  major access to the Necromantic sphere and the 
  Elemental sphere is restricted to water and earth. They 
  have the following granted powers: immunity to normal 
  diseases; turn undead (neutral priests)/command undead 
  (evil priests); reversed lay on hands (2 hp of 
  damage/level by touch, once a day, no save); 5th level: 
  Plague touch once per month per 5 levels of experience; 
  9th level: shapechange into giant vulture once per day 
  for up to three hours. 
  The Plague is similar to mummy rot, killing in 2d8 
  weeks. The victim permanently loses 1 point of 
  Strength and Constitution and 2 points of Charisma per 
  week; infected creatures receive no benefit from cure 
  wound spells while the disease is in effect; wounds heal 
  naturally at only 10% of the natural rate. Also, victims 
  have a chance (cumulative 5% per week) of infecting 
  those who spend a whole day with them. 
  Only one cure disease for every week of infection, 
  plus regeneration and remove curse, can cure this 
  disease. The priests also have a unique hindrance: The 
  Ohoty Bedu permanently lose one point of 
  Charisma/Appearance each time they rise in level (this 
  affects reactions only outside the Cult). They are 
  restricted to leather armor and slashing non-metallic 
  weapons. Their holy symbol is a white feather given by 
  the Vulture King. 
  Native Player Characters 
  Player characters born in Tsuu-Y-Teke are Inan, 
  coming from one of the villages scattered throughout 
  the domain. Because of the harsh environmental 
  conditions, all characters receive +1 Constitution, but 
  the constant exposure to the sun makes their skin dry 
  and leathery, giving them –2 Charisma. Also, should 
  they ever leave the domain and face a true night, their 
  ancient, inner fear of the dark flourishes: the first dark 
  night witnessed by an Inan PC prompts a horror check; 
  if it is a new moon, or in a moonless domain, a madness 
  check is in order. The next seven nights are cause for 
  fear checks at each sunset. Checks are not necessary if 
  the character stays indoors with lots of light around 
  (like a continual light spell), and no direct sight of the 
  night, taking time to adjust to the new experience. 
  However, the inner fear will always manifest whenever 
  the PC faces a creature directly associated with the 
  night, giving him/her a permanent –1 penalty to all fear, 
  horror and madness checks related to such evils. 
  PCs normally can opt to be fighters, rangers, 
  wizards, caretakers, shamans (described in the Shaman 
  accessory) or specialty priests (see above). Rogues are 
  extremely rare, and always in danger of persecution. If 
  kits are allowed, all those dealing with primitive, 
  barbaric cultures might be considered appropriate. The 
  few wizards tend to be solitary fetishists (from the 
  article “The Magic of Nature” in The Book of Sorrows) 
  or elementalists. 
  Weapons are primitive, made of flint and obsidian 
  with wooden shafts or handles and must normally be 
  either fashioned by the PC or traded for something 
  valuable. Common weapons include: club, spear, stone 
  knife, bow, sling, staff, quarterstaff. Each character 
  receive the survival proficiency (desert) for free and can 
  choose another free non-weapon proficiency in some 
  unsophisticated craft, such as pottery or gem cutting 
  (but not carpentry), or to agriculture, animal lore, 
  handling or training, land-based riding or hunting. 
  Reading and making quipu is also free, but 
  reading/writing any other language costs one extra slot. 
  Personalities of Note 
  The chief Pumasonc of all Tsuu-Y-Teke is Idianakatu 
  (ee-dee-anak-AH-too), a quiet, wise and heavily 
  tattooed middle-aged man. He is one of the Elders of 
  Berohokan, the largest pueblo in Tsuu-Y-Teke, and 
  spends most of his time teaching the children and 
  testing for spellcasters. 
  Once every week, though, he shapechanges and 
  ventures alone in the wilderness, looking for his lost 
  twin brother Alobederi (alub-DEH-ree), who was cast 
  out of the pueblo after the Inan found him stealing from 
  the Sacred Mask Hall. Unbeknownst to him, Alobederi 
  survived, and now commands the raids from the cultists 
  of the Vulture God against the miners. 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT LOCALES 
  100 
  Idianakatu 
  12th-level Pumasonc, Lawful Good 
  Armor Class 
  8 (6) 
   
   
  Str  
  10 
  Movement 
  12 (15)  
   
  Dex  
  14 
  Level/Hit Dice 
  12  
   
   
  Con  
  17 
  Hit Points 
  78  
   
   
  Int  
  16 
  THAC0 
  14 (11 w/ 
   
  Wis  
  18 
  quarterstaff)  
  Cha  
  15 
  No. of Attacks 
  1 or 3 
  Damage/Attack 
  1d6+3 (blessed quarterstaff +3) 
  or 1d3/1d3/1d8 
  Special Attacks 
  Surprised only on a 1, spells, 
  rake (as puma) for 1d4+1 (x2) 
  Special Defenses 
  Spells 
  Magic Resistance 
  Nil 
  * Numbers in parentheses refer to puma form. 
  Idianakatu was once a cheerful man, but since the 
  disappearance of his twin brother and the death of his 
  wife Maheyco (ma-HEE-koo), he has become more 
  silent and serious. That does not affect his work, but his 
  lone wanderings make all in Berohokan apprehensive, 
  although no one will ever try to stop him, and he has 
  made it quite clear that no one should follow him on his 
  quest. Everybody respects his word and wisdom, but 
  some fear he might be a little senile. Maheyco’s death 
  was a mystery—she was pushed from the highest 
  building in the pueblo during one festival, and the 
  murderer was never found, but it was clear that the 
  Vulture God’s cult was involved: her body was full of 
  Plague spots. She had to be cremated instead of buried, 
  and that added a lot to Idianakatu’s grief, as he believes 
  she is now a restless spirit. And he is right. 
  Idianakatu rarely fights, but if he has to, he prefers 
  to shapechange into a puma, making three attacks per 
  round. If both front paws strike, he can rake in the same 
  round with his rear claws. He can also wield his 
  ceremonial quarterstaff +3, which is permanently 
  blessed. He usually dons his ceremonial leather garb 
  (equivalent to leather armor), which transforms along 
  with him when he takes puma form. 
  Alobederi 
  Dual class 5th-level Thief / 9th-level Priest of the 
  Vulture God, Neutral Evil 
  Armor Class 
  8 (7 as vulture) 
  Str  
  12 
  Movement 
  12 (Fl 30/C)  
  Dex  
  16 
  Level/Hit Dice 
  9 (+5 as thief) 
  Con  
  17 
  Hit Points 
  54  
   
   
  Int  
  13 
  THAC0 
  16  
   
   
  Wis  
  17 
  No. of Attacks 
  1 
   
   
   
  Cha  
  6* 
  Damage/Attack 
  1d6–1 (stone knife) or 1d4 (beak) 
  + special 
  Special Attacks 
  Spells, disease, backstab (x3) 
  Special Defenses 
  Spells 
  Magic Resistance 
  Nil 
  Thief Abilities 
  PP 15% OL 0% F/RT 5% MS 
  25% HS 90% DN 95% CW 60% 
  RL 0% 
  * Charisma is considered 15 to cultists of the Vulture God. 
  Alobederi is a coward, cold and calculating man, 
  hardened by the harsh life he was forced to live since 
  his expulsion from the pueblo. He was caught in the act 
  of robbing gems from the Sacred Masks, marked by a 
  humiliating tattoo and condemned to a short life in the 
  tablelands—by his own brother and his peers. Weak 
  and starving, he was attacked by a flock of giant 
  vultures, but instead of fighting, begged for mercy, 
  readily swearing obedience to the beasts. Brought 
  before the Vulture King, he was marked once again—
  this time, as an acolyte. 
  In the depths of his soul, he despises the Vulture 
  King and what he has become, but above all he blames 
  his brother for all this. It was Alobederi who, 
  polymorphed as a giant vulture, attacked and pushed 
  Maheyco to her death. But that was just one part of his 
  revenge. Now, he is helping his master by raiding the 
  mining camps and bringing the largest gems to the 
  vultures, hoping that one day he will be able to exact 
  his personal revenge and, perhaps, rule over the other 
  Inan at the Vulture King’s behalf. His visage is so ugly 
  that he might be mistaken for a disease-ridden mummy. 
  Like most priests of the Vulture God, he is not a 
  brave fighter, preferring instead to rely on his spells 
  and, in time of dire need, his vulture shape (actually he 
  hates that shape, as he feels it robs him of the rest of his 
  humanity). He is able to use a leather vest that mocks 
  his brother’s own garment and offers the same AC. 
  Also, he is always armed with a large stone knife. He is 
  constantly plagued by the image of Maheyco, now a 
  restless spirit seeking justice. 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT LOCALES 
  101 
  Encounters 
  Most encounters in the open plains will be with natural 
  creatures. The giant buffalo is perhaps the largest 
  animal found on land, gathering in a single herd of a 
  few hundred, always along the fertile river shores. 
  These beasts walk free, fearing very little from the other 
  animals, except for pumas and men. The Inan hunt 
  them, but one adult alone can feed several families for a 
  week; besides, there are domestic sheep and goats 
  around the villages. The few coyotes that hide in the 
  rocks attack only lone infants, elders of sick. Giant and 
  common vultures nest on the top of the rocky mesas, 
  preying on sheep and coyotes and also scavenging. 
  In the canyon caves, there are spiders of various 
  types and deadly black scorpions, along with scarab 
  beetles. Snakes hide in the shadows, as continuous 
  exposure to direct sunlight would kill them in a few 
  minutes. The rivers have almost no fish but some 
  aquatic snakes live there. 
  Tsuu-Y-Teke is no place for vampires and other 
  creatures that need the night to exist. Undead generally 
  include skeletons, desert zombies, a few low-rank, 
  naturally-preserved mummies and incorporeal restless 
  dead such as geists and ghosts, while spectres and 
  wraiths greatly suffer from the nearly endless sunlight. 
  One of the greatest menaces one is likely to face is 
  the rare presence of the Kuni-Bina, neutral evil spirits 
  that take the forms of animals, people or monsters. 
  Each large group encountered has 5% chance per day, 
  non-cumulative, of having one Kuni among their 
  numbers. The incorporeal spirit cannot affect the 
  physical world or be affected by it, except when it 
  materializes. Once every seven days it can turn into a 
  perfect copy of any animal within 50 yards, with one 
  more Hit Die and the same normal attacks of the 
  species. This materialization lasts for one hour per Hit 
  Die of the creature. The Kuni can be killed normally, 
  and their XP value depends solely on the original 
  creature +1 HD. Kuni hate the Inan and try to kill or 
  harm them whenever possible, blaming all humans for 
  the change in the land, as they know of the curse 
  spoken by Heresa Heri. Two Kuni emulating the same 
  animal rarely socialize among themselves, even to 
  attack humans, and two Kuni of different species will 
  not tolerate each other’s presence but will not fight, 
  preferring to part ways immediately. 
  However, perhaps the most dangerous foes the 
  Inan might encounter are the Heresa-Bedu. Spirits of 
  dead evil Ohoty Bedu, they reincarnate as giant vultures 
  through a special ritual performed by their leader, the 
  Vulture King. In such form they retain their keen 
  intelligence, granted powers and spell abilities, with the 
  following change: all touch attacks are transmitted 
  through attacks with their sharp beaks, and they can use 
  a reversed version of the speak with animals spell, 
  enabling them to talk with the Inan. Heresa Heri can 
  only perform this foul ritual once per month at the True 
  Night, and it takes him the full night to do it, so he 
  avoids wasting his only free night in the month (see 
  below) unless the dead priest was a particularly 
  powerful and devoted one. 
  Heresa Heri, The Vulture King 
  Lord of Tsuu-Y-Teke 
  5th Rank Giant Vulture Greater Mummy 
  Neutral Evil 
  Armor Class 
  –1  
   
   
  Str  
  21 
  Movement 
  6, Fl 30 (C)  
  Dex  
  16 
  Level/Hit Dice 
  13  
   
   
  Con  
  18 
  Hit Points 
  90  
   
   
  Int  
  13 
  THAC0 
  7 
   
   
   
  Wis  
  23 
  No. of Attacks 
  1 or 2 
   
   
  Cha  
  3* 
  Damage/Attack 
  2d8 (beak) or 1d8/1d8(talons) 
  Special Attacks 
  Talon grapple, spells, disease, 
  see below 
  Special Defenses 
  +3 or better weapon to hit, spells, 
  see below 
  Magic Resistance 
  25% 
  * Charisma is considered 20 to cultists of the Vulture God. 
  Appearance 
  Heresa Heri is a mummy in pristine state of 
  preservation, although that does not improve his general 
  appearance, except when dealing with his own servants. 
  He is a white giant vulture, perhaps the only of his kind. 
  His feathers are of the purest white, but his head is bald 
  just like the other vultures. He has his crown, though, a 
  dark red bonnet made of dried blood that sprouted from 
  his head when he was hit by the hero Kananciwe. This 
  gruesome headdress covers more than half of his skull 
  and a few droplets cover one side of his beak as well. 
  He has sickly yellow eyes that gleam in the dark of the 
  cave complex he currently inhabits. His large beak is 
  jagged and uneven as if he had fanged teeth. He can 
  talk in the language of the Inan with a screechy voice, 
  and can communicate with all animals and Kuni. 
  Current Sketch 
  Heresa Heri’s history is described in the legend above. 
  After his burial, he awoke as a powerful yet frightened 
  mummy. He is unable to fly under the continuous 
  sunlight and the only moment when he can leave the 
  caves is during the True Night, once a month. When 
  this time comes, he briefly spies the Inan settlements 
  from above, and then he goes on to another mountain. 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT LOCALES 
  102 
  This inability to rule over the skies as before greatly 
  infuriates him. Recently, he has devised a new plan: if 
  his priests can gather a sufficient number of gems, he 
  believes he might be able to imprison the skylight once 
  again and recreate the Night. But first he needs a 
  number of gems equal to the amount of stars in the sky, 
  and he does not remember the exact number. 
  The dark powers taunt him with this amnesia, as he 
  knows the ritual will not work if but only one gem is 
  missing. He firmly believes that the Vulture God will 
  advise him when he reaches the exact quantity, unaware 
  of the missing connection between him and his deity, as 
  the dark powers now grant his spells and powers. As 
  the Inan collect their gems very slowly and his minions 
  are not always able to take the gems away, his work 
  will never end. 
  Closing the Borders 
  When he wants to seal the domain, the Vulture King 
  summons the last remnants of the Night, cloaking the 
  air around the mountain chains and valleys with 
  brooding clouds of darkness. It is similar to a continual 
  darkness spell, except that it cannot be dispelled or 
  countered with any source of light, normal or magical. 
  Neither animals nor Inan will willingly cross the dark 
  cloud, and even if they wanted to, they would quickly 
  lose the path and find themselves back in Tsuu-Y-Teke. 
  Even creatures able to see in the deepest darkness are 
  blind in the magical cloud. 
  Combat 
  Heresa Heri is unlikely to fight on his own accord, as he 
  still fears humans, even though he is obviously more 
  powerful than his hated enemies. He exudes an aura of 
  fear that affects all creatures within sight range, 
  paralyzing for 1d12 rounds all those who fail a fear 
  check at a –2 penalty. 
  In melee he attacks with his jagged beak for 2d8 
  points of damage. Anyone hit by the Vulture King 
  contracts a powerful version of the Plague, a rotting 
  disease that kills in 2d4 days. In 24 hours the muscles 
  swell and the skin bursts with dark, sore blisters. The 
  victim permanently loses 1 point of Constitution and 
  Strength and 2 points of Charisma per day. The disease 
  can be cured by one cure disease for each day of 
  infection, plus a remove curse (to end the magical 
  affliction) and regeneration (to recover lost hit points). 
  Lost ability points can only be regained through the use 
  of a wish. A high fever actually “cooks” the victim’s 
  body, being responsible for the death. There is a 
  cumulative 10% risk of contagion per day of contact 
  with the victim. If buried alive in one of the many caves 
  in the mountains, the victim raises later as a desert 
  zombie. If prepared for a ceremonial funeral before 
  death, the victim raises as a servant mummy (usually of 
  2nd rank). 
  Heresa Heri can also grapple an opponent with his 
  powerful talons, inflicting 2d8 points of damage per 
  round. He can carry up to 500 pounds while flying, but 
  this drops his maneuverability class to D. His talon 
  attack does not spread the Plague. 
  In addition to his great physical strength, the 
  Vulture King can cast spells as an 18th-level priest of 
  the Vulture God, with appropriate adjustments for high 
  Wisdom. He also has all granted powers of his sect. His 
  followers believe him to be an avatar of their god. 
  The mummy king is immune to weapons of less 
  than +3 enchantment, unless they are blessed or holy 
  weapons (in this case they do 1 point of damage plus 
  the magical bonus, but no Strength bonus). The lesser 
  mummies he creates are fully vulnerable to +1 or better 
  weapons and receive half damage from flint weapons. 
  Heresa Heri is also immune to all cold-, water- and 
  earth-based attacks, mind- and health-affecting spells, 
  death magic, normal fire and electricity. Magical fire 
  causes him normal damage and magical lighting causes 
  double damage. Acid burns his feathers and flesh but 
  cannot cause him more damage than 1/3 of his total hit 
  points. Holy water has no effect on him, unless created 
  by priests of the Sun Puma, giving him 1d4 points of 
  damage per vial (1 point per splash). 
  As all his feathers are considered holy symbols, 
  Heresa Heri is able to fully rejuvenate after one hour of 
  complete rest, at a range of 2d4 points per round. 
  Contact with a holy symbol of a good faith causes him 
  1d4 points of damage, but a holy symbol of the Cult of 
  the Puma causes him 1d8 points of damage. He is 
  turned as special undead, but priests suffer a –2 penalty, 
  and in a 100-yard circle around him there is a Sinkhole 
  of Evil (Pumasoncs receive only –1). 
  Heresa Heri is rarely alone. He can summon 
  swarms of scarab beetles, black scorpions, hairy 
  spiders, blue flies or wasps, once per day each. The 
  swarm covers about 60 cubic feet and has a movement 
  rate of 18. Flying swarms have maneuverability B. The 
  swarm lasts for 1d6 rounds and inflicts 5 points of 
  damage per round if the victim does nothing except try 
  to fight off the stinging horde, or 1d10+5 points per 
  round if the victim ignores it. Scorpions, wasps and 
  spiders have poisonous attacks (see the Monstrous 
  Manual). 
  Heresa Heri can always count on his powers over 
  the undead (2d10 desert zombies and/or 1d4 servant 
  mummies) and vultures (2d10 common or 1d6 giant, 
  with a 50% chance of one actually being a Heresa 
  Bedu). If hard pressed in combat, once per month 
  Heresa Heri can summon a 16 HD free-willed chaotic 
  evil elemental, either a grave (70% chance) or blood 
  (30% chance) elemental. The creature does not attack 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT LOCALES 
  103 
  him, but his minions are not safe at all; therefore he 
  avoids using this power. 
  For all his powers, Heresa Heri has his own 
  weaknesses. He is utterly unable to face sunlight, and 
  direct exposure burns him for 3 points of damage per 
  round. Reflected sunlight causes him 3 points of 
  damage per turn. Continual light spells do not hurt him 
  but can still drive him away as if turned. He receives 
  normal damage from a sunray spell. His desert zombies 
  and servant mummies are not affected by sunlight, and 
  this enrages him all the more. 
  Every time he is confronted with sunlight, Heresa 
  Heri must make a morale check. If cornered alone and 
  isolated by an obviously superior creature or group (an 
  unlikely event), the Vulture King will resort to his old 
  bartering tactics. 
  Should Heresa Heri ever be slain and destroyed 
  beyond hope of rejuvenation, his Kuni will fly at 
  maximum speed to any giant vulture within a 13-mile 
  radius. The vulture’s feathers will turn white in seven 
  days, and after another seven days the creature will die, 
  becoming the Vulture King once again. During this 
  time the borders will remain open. 
  ! 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT LOCALES 
  104 
  VULTHARESK 
  Be on Your Best Behavior 
  by Ari Marmell with George Marmell 
  mousferatu@aol.com 
  THE LAND 
  ultharesk is a relatively small domain, 
  consisting of a single large village (less than 
  a thousand inhabitants) snuggled away in the 
  confines of a roughly circular valley in the 
  midst of uncharted mountains. The Mists cloud the 
  mountain trails most of the time, blurring any possible 
  view of whatever may lie beyond the peaks. The 
  inhabitants claim that there are occasional days on 
  which the fog lifts and the lands outside the valley can 
  indeed be seen; whether there is any truth to this claim, 
  or whether it is simply hallucination or false memory 
  imparted by the Mists themselves, no outsider can say. 
  The climate of Vultharesk leans towards the colder 
  side, with short, mild summers and long, numbing 
  winters; storms and blizzards blow in across the 
  mountains with astounding frequency. Planting is 
  difficult, and the single village struggles yearly to 
  survive. Parts of the surrounding valley are thickly 
  forested with heavy, coniferous trees, and the 
  mountainsides are splotched with more of the same. 
  The majority of Vultharesk’s structures tend 
  towards the short and squat, rarely more than two 
  stories high. Constructed almost entirely of timber, they 
  often sport thick chimneys that smoke practically year-
  round, adding to the already weighty haze that hovers 
  over the vale. Many of the buildings are painted in 
  surprisingly cheerful colors, the bright hues contrasting 
  strangely with the dull browns and drab grays that make 
  up the natural surroundings. A walled estate, enormous 
  in size when compared to the relative poverty of its 
  environs, sits atop a small rise near the center of town; 
  the structures here, unlike those below, are made of 
  whitewashed stone, and stretch in some places up to 
  heights of four or five stories. The property is heavily 
  gardened, a patch of conspicuous affluence in the midst 
  of the town. 
  Though it may take newcomers to Vultharesk some 
  time to realize it, there is something off about the 
  village and its inhabitants. Only with study and 
  acclimatization will travelers slowly begin to pick up on 
  the fact that there is almost nothing reflective to be seen 
  in the town. Mirrors are banned outright, windows 
  remain shuttered at night, wells stay covered, and even 
  small tools and items such as cutlery, jewelry, and belt 
  buckles are either made of non-metallic substances or 
  are designed to present a minimum of flat surface. 
  Travelers carrying a great quantity of metallic 
  equipment, especially armor, will find themselves met 
  with stares of outright horror by the villagers, who will 
  often go so far as to turn and flee. 
  Cultural Level 
  Godwyn Estates and its inhabitants function at the 
  Renaissance level of development and technology; the 
  rest of Vultharesk can claim only Dark Ages, at best. 
  The Folk 
  The majority of Vultharesk natives tend to be short and 
  slender or wiry, somewhat swarthy of skin, with dark 
  hair and eyes. Men dress most often in simple tunics 
  and tight, dark-hued pants, and often go mustached; the 
  women dress in colorful skirts and peasant blouses 
  when younger, changing over to a far darker, more 
  somber wardrobe as they age. They bear more than a 
  passing resemblance to the Vistani, a fact that has led 
  some foreigners to theorize that Vultharesk is the long-
  lost origin of those gypsies. This is not, in fact, the case, 
  though there are more than a few similarities between 
  the two cultures, and those Vistani who travel to 
  Vultharesk are met with an openness and acceptance 
  that they rarely hope to find elsewhere. Still, the Vistani 
  avoid this domain as much as possible; their behavior 
  all too easily attracts the unwanted attention of the 
  Mirror Man, Vultharesk’s master. 
  The second group of inhabitants to be found in the 
  domain, the residents of Godwyn Estates, could not be 
  more different than those who toil beneath them. They 
  are far paler of skin, light haired, with a tendency 
  towards softer features, brought about by a life 
  encumbered by substantially less physical labor than 
  their neighbors. The Godwyn family and their servants 
  dress formally most of the time, the men in intricately 
  V 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT LOCALES 
  105 
  embroidered frock coats and stiff breeches, the women 
  in petticoats, heavy skirts, and corsets. Unlike the 
  villagers below, the Godwyn family does not eschew 
  the use of mirrors, nor of metal adornments in their 
  wardrobe. 
  The villagers, unlike the Vistani they resemble, live 
  a strict, almost puritan, lifestyle. All their attentions 
  seem devoted to the necessities of survival, with little 
  time left for entertainment or play. Dour, serious, and 
  absolutely proper, it would appear to most outsiders 
  that the people of Vultharesk have forgotten that there 
  is more to living than mere subsistence. 
  The truth is that the unfortunate inhabitants of this 
  domain do not live in this fashion as a matter of 
  preference; they have, instead, been taught since 
  childhood to moderate their behavior, to be right and 
  proper in all things, not out of any moralistic sense of 
  decorum, but out of fear. The villagers of Vultharesk 
  live in constant terror of attracting the unwanted 
  attentions of the Mirror Man, a vengeful spirit who 
  permeates every aspect of native living. The Godwyns, 
  however, scoff at any mention of such an entity, 
  refusing utterly to believe a word of it. 
  The Law 
  Formally, the law in Vultharesk is mandated and 
  enforced by the Godwyn family, those who have ruled 
  over this tiny land since long before its encapsulation 
  by the Mists. The current lord is Sir Ambrose Godwyn, 
  a stern, leather-skinned old man of regal bearing and a 
  demanding nature. Godwyn passes few laws—stealing, 
  murder, failure to pay taxes, and “improper relations” 
  between non-married (or adulterous) couples are illegal, 
  but that’s about it—but these are rigidly enforced, with 
  punishment for violation coming at the whim of the 
  nobles, rather than through any form of trial or system 
  of justice. The Godwyns themselves are, of course, 
  above this law, as the villagers have no other legal 
  recourse to turn to, and the Mirror Man confines his 
  own harsh “justice” to the peasants. The natives restrict 
  themselves to iron-clad codes of behavior far in excess 
  of what Lord Ambrose demands of them; they know 
  that, as wretched an overseer as he is, he is far more 
  forgiving than the true judge of Vultharesk. 
  Note that the Godwyn family, even after several 
  generations, is unaware that their domain no longer lies 
  in the world it once did. The Mists seem to dampen 
  their powers of observation in that regard; furthermore, 
  occasional messengers or noble visitors still arrive at 
  Godwyn Estates (it is from these that the family has 
  drawn their supply of fresh marriage stock). Whether 
  these newcomers are taken from the world in which 
  Vultharesk originally lay or are creations of the Mists 
  themselves is unknown. 
  Native Player Characters 
  Player characters from Vultharesk come from the 
  gypsy-like peasant stock; there are too few of the 
  Godwyns for any of them to be permitted to wander off 
  on their own. Of all the various races, only humans can 
  be found in Vultharesk. Fighters, rangers, rogues, 
  priests, and the very occasional bard may hail from this 
  tiny domain; all other classes are forbidden to native 
  heroes. Due to the poverty and isolation of Vultharesk, 
  natives start with only half the standard beginning 
  funds, and they have no access to heavy armors, exotic 
  weapons, or crossbows. However, because they have 
  been raised their entire lives with the necessity of iron 
  control over their behavior, they receive a bonus of +4 
  to any Will saves to resist taking any actions contrary to 
  their moral code, even while under magical influence. # 
  (except when trying to resist the touch attack of the 
  Mirror Man; see below). 
  Encounters 
  There are few true “monsters” to be found in this 
  minuscule domain. There is a mere 10% chance of an 
  encounter during the day, rising only to 20% at night. 
  The vast majority of these encounters will be with 
  common forest or mountain wildlife, such as wolves, 
  bears, or the infrequent mountain lion. Dire rats can 
  occasionally be found around the village itself, skulking 
  about amongst their smaller cousins, and a small 
  enclave of goblins lurks in the mountain caves. 
  Sir Trevor Godwyn,  
  "The Mirror Man" 
  Lord of Vultharesk 
  Unique Undead Spirit, 14th-Level Fighter 
  Strength 
  18 (+4) 
  Dexterity 
  19 (+4) 
  Constitution 
  — 
  Intelligence 
  14 (+2) 
  Wisdom 
  9 (–1) 
  Charisma 
  12 (+1) 
  Fortitude Save 
  +9 (immune to affects that 
  require a Fort save unless they 
  affect objects) 
  Reflex Save 
  +4 
  Will Save 
  +6 
  Alignment 
  Lawful Evil 
  Speed 
  60 ft. (supernatural enhancement) 
  Size 
  M 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT LOCALES 
  106 
  Initiative 
  +12 (+4 supernatural 
  enhancement, +4 Dex, +4 
  Improved Initiative) 
  Armor Class 
  22 (+8 deflection, +4 Dex) 
  Hit Points 
  119 
  Attack Bonus 
  longsword +19/+14/+9 melee; 
  banishing touch +19/+14/+9 
  melee 
  Damage 
  longsword 1d8+4 (17–20/x2) 
  touch 1d3+4 + banishment (see 
  below) 
  Spell Resistance 
  25 
  Special Attacks: Automatic success, banishing touch. 
  Special Qualities: Undead, darkvision 120’, +6 turn 
  resistance, damage reduction 15/+1, reflection 
  immunity, fast healing 2/turn. 
  Skills: Climb +6, Diplomacy +3, Jump +3, Knowledge 
  (geography) +10, Knowledge (history) +6, Knowledge 
  (nature) +3, Knowledge (nobility) +8, Ride +9, Sense 
  Motive +7*, Spot +7*, Swim +3, Wilderness Lore +4* 
  Feats: Ambidexterity, Cleave, Great Cleave, Improved 
  Critical (longsword), Improved Initiative, Improved 
  Unarmed Strike, Iron Will, Power Attack, Weapon 
  Focus (longsword), Track*, Two-weapon Fighting, 
  Weapon Focus (unarmed), Weapon Specialization 
  (longsword), Weapon Specialization (unarmed). 
  Notes: * These skills and feats are considered automatically 
  successful when utilized against a chosen victim (see below), 
  overcoming even magical or supernatural abilities. 
  Combat 
  Godwyn fights with all the skill of a 14th-level fighter, 
  augmented by his supernatural nature. He can use his 
  banishing touch as an off-hand attack while still 
  attacking with his longsword; should he choose this 
  option, his attack bonuses are +17/+12/+7 with the 
  longsword; he can then make a single additional touch 
  attack at +17. 
  Undead: Immune to mind-influencing effects, 
  poison, sleep, paralysis, stunning, and disease. Not 
  subject to critical hits, subdual damage, ability damage, 
  energy drain, or death from massive damage. 
  Automatic Success (Ex): Godwyn can select a 
  chosen victim, if that victim breaks one of the domain’s 
  taboos (see Current Sketch below). Godwyn 
  automatically succeeds in all Sense Motive, Spot, and 
  Tracking checks made against that specific victim. 
  Banishing Touch (Su): Godwyn’s touch attack 
  normally inflicts 1d3+4 points of damage. If his touch 
  attack successfully strikes a “chosen victim” (see 
  above), the victim must succeed at a Will save (C 20) or 
  be banished into Godwyn’s mirror realm. (See below.) 
  Turn Resistance (Ex): Godwyn adds +6 to his 
  effective Hit Dice total when clerics or paladins attempt 
  to turn him. Any attempt by a “chosen victim” to turn 
  Godwyn automatically fails. Even if successfully 
  turned, Godwyn’s power as domain lord is such that he 
  need not flee, but is only prevented from approaching 
  the cleric or paladin in question for one minute. 
  Damage Reduction (Su): Godwyn’s quasi-
  corporeal body renders him resistant to damage, 
  granting him damage reduction 15/+1. 
  Fast Healing (Ex): Godwyn heals 1 hit point every 
  five rounds. 
  Reflection Immunity (Ex): Godwyn is utterly 
  immune to all attacks from reflective weapons or 
  substances (including many metal weapons); this even 
  applies to magic weapons. A metal weapon that has 
  been dyed, blackened, or otherwise rendered 
  nonreflective can damage him normally. 
  Appearance 
  Trevor Godwyn, the Mirror Man, is a unique spirit, 
  similar in some respects to a ghost. Unlike the standard 
  ghost, however, Godwyn’s manifestation is effectively 
  corporeal, and he can manipulate physical objects. 
  When he manifests, be it within the confines of a 
  reflective surface or in the real world, he appears as a 
  tall man dressed in a black, high-collared and long-
  tailed frock coat trimmed in silver, with matching 
  leather boots and pants of midnight blue. His hair, 
  hovering on the border between blond and white, is 
  pulled back tightly into a tail; his eyes are an utterly 
  empty shade of icy blue. Though traces of the 
  handsome man he once was can still be seen in his 
  sharp features, his face now appears to be that of a man 
  dead by starvation; skin is pulled tight over his skull, as 
  though most of the muscle and flesh were sucked out 
  from beneath it. Unless he actively wills it into some 
  other expression, the tightness of his skin constantly 
  pulls his mouth into a rictus grin.  
  He carries an ornate long sword at his left hip, its 
  hilt trimmed in gold, its scabbard adorned with elegant 
  embossing. His every movement appears to onlookers 
  to be slow and graceful, and yet this illusory lassitude is 
  belied by Godwyn’s supernatural swiftness. Similarly, 
  as he strides across the land in pursuit of prey, he 
  almost gives the appearance of floating inches above 
  the earth, rather than truly stepping upon it. 
  Background 
  Several generations back, on a world far from the 
  endless nights of Ravenloft, a large nation, considerably 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT LOCALES 
  107 
  more technologically advanced than its neighbors, 
  began a far-reaching campaign of imperialist 
  expansion. Land after land was conquered—not only 
  for the glories of king and country, but also for the sake 
  of the “heathens” themselves; here was their chance to 
  be civilized, to learn to live and be ruled in the “proper” 
  fashion. And if they didn’t recognize that opportunity 
  when it came, if they chose in their ignorance to fight a 
  misguided battle against their saviors—well, they could 
  easily be kept down by military might until they came 
  to their senses. 
  One province thus subjugated included a small 
  mountain town called Vultharesk, situated at the very 
  outward edges of the empire’s reach. It fell without a 
  fight—the natives of Vultharesk simply had neither the 
  numbers nor the means to resist—and was quickly 
  assigned a military governor. This man would preside 
  over the area with a (supposedly) more enlightened rule 
  than the natives themselves, and would also be 
  responsible for keeping law and order in the newly 
  acquired territory. The man assigned to the job was a 
  rising young nobleman by the name of Trevor Godwyn. 
  Godwyn—along with his entire extended family 
  and a veritable army of servants and bodyguards, very 
  nearly two hundred souls in all—immediately 
  journeyed thousands of miles to Vultharesk and set up 
  shop, ordering the construction of a large manor on the 
  top of a rise in the center of town, the former location 
  of the village’s largest temple. There he set about to 
  rule the “heathens,” to bring them in line with a ruthless 
  efficiency. 
  The new lord’s policies were draconian at best; no 
  infraction, legal or moral, was to be tolerated. Murder, 
  theft, brawling, plotting against the new lord; these 
  were all capital offenses as might be expected—but so 
  were lying, adultery or improper relations, or 
  worshipping the old gods who held sway before 
  Godwyn arrived. He was going to civilize these people, 
  bend them to the rule of his own kingdom’s moral 
  outlook, even if he had to kill the lot of them to do it. 
  This continued for nigh onto ten years—until, on a 
  march of inspection through the heart of the village, 
  Trevor Godwyn met a young native woman, barely 
  more than a girl, by the name of Olyana Volienska. 
  Instantly smitten with the dark-tressed beauty, Godwyn 
  nevertheless managed to resist his baser impulses that 
  day, and for several more weeks as well. He finally 
  succumbed to temptation one cold winter night, 
  slipping out of the bed he shared with his wife of fifteen 
  years and riding down into the village to find her. 
  Olyana, already married as well, nevertheless went 
  along with her lord's demands, partially out of fear, but 
  also with the hope that her cooperation might result in a 
  better life for her and her family. 
  After a mere handful of these clandestine trysts, 
  Olyana’s husband grew suspicious of her frequent 
  absences, and arranged to have several of his friends 
  follow her one evening to the couple’s meeting place. 
  Unable to get near enough to make out any details in 
  the dark of night, the men could not identify Olyana’s 
  lover—but the fact that she was unfaithful was proven 
  in their minds beyond the shadow of a doubt. Incensed, 
  the young woman’s husband waited up for her that 
  night . . . 
  Lord Godwyn presided over an open court the next 
  afternoon, as was his practice on most days, so that the 
  poor savages under his rule might observe his inspired 
  leadership and sense of justice in action. Mere moments 
  before the noon hour, at which time it was his custom to 
  break for a midday meal, the governor was stunned to 
  the core of his soul when Olyana was dragged in by her 
  husband and thrown at Godwyn’s feet. The young man 
  demanded the lord’s justice—and Godwyn, terrified 
  that his own hypocrisy would be revealed, agreed, 
  executing Olyana with his own blade where she lay. If 
  the brutal lord of Vultharesk felt any shame, any guilt, 
  even the slightest regret for his actions, he never 
  showed it. The court broke for their meal, and all 
  seemed well when they resumed an hour later. 
  It was not until that evening—when Trevor 
  Godwyn glanced up from his washbasin into the large 
  silver mirror that hung in his bathing chambers to see, 
  not his own handsome visage staring out at him, but 
  rather the shocked and accusing face of Olyana 
  Volienska—that Godwyn’s terror-stricken mind began 
  to understand that there would, finally, be consequences 
  for his actions. 
  For months, Godwyn was haunted by this mirror-
  housed phantom that only he could see. Every 
  reflection he saw, from the slightest bit of polished 
  jewelry to the ripple-marred face that stared up from his 
  bath, revealed to him the specter of the woman he had 
  slain. And the lord began to go ever so slightly mad. He 
  ate but rarely now, as though he had more important 
  things on his mind than food; his face grew gaunt over 
  time, his limbs lanky. His family began to avoid him 
  where feasible, growing ever more frightened of his 
  sudden fits of temper. His rule over the natives grew, if 
  possible, even more ruthless, more barbarous; perhaps 
  he felt that the ghost in the mirror was somehow their 
  doing. Dozens were executed for imaginary 
  transgressions, and Olyana’s entire family was rounded 
  up on “suspicion of treason” and hanged to the last 
  man, woman, and child. Blood flowed like a mountain 
  stream, each drop of it shed either by Godwyn’s own 
  hands or at least by his orders—and still it was not 
  enough to drown the image staring at him from the 
  glass. 
  It finally ended one night, half a year to the day 
  from the date of Olyana’s unjust execution. The mists, 
  unusually thick for a summer eve, had poured in off the 
  mountain peaks, smothering the village of Vultharesk in 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT LOCALES 
  108 
  a thick pall of gloom. It was tenacious, this fog, 
  slipping tendrils of itself in through partially shuttered 
  windows, or beneath the cracks of doors. Wolves 
  howled, hidden deep within the shifting haze, and yet 
  hideously close to judge by the sound of their soul-
  chilling dirge. Every door in the village was bolted that 
  night, as though the people had some dreadful 
  premonition of what was to come. 
  That night, Trevor Godwyn snapped. Staring at 
  Olyana’s reflection in the mirror, he abruptly demanded 
  that his wife come in from the adjoining room and tell 
  him what she saw in the looking glass. She entered, and 
  told him—as she’d done a hundred times before—that 
  she saw nothing out of the ordinary in the mirror at all. 
  And Godwyn, enraged beyond measure and maddened 
  by the months of torment, exploded in fury, grabbing 
  his own wife by the back of her skull and slamming her 
  face repeatedly into the glass. Cracks spider-webbed 
  across the mirror, blood ran freely and torn bits of flesh 
  snagged in the broken crevices, and still Godwyn would 
  not—could not—let up, screaming at his dying spouse 
  to open her eyes and look! 
  The shards fell from the frame in a tiny hailstorm 
  of glass—yet Olyana stood there still, in the empty 
  frame of the mirror. Staring in horror, Godwyn dropped 
  the limp body of his wife and tried to retreat as his 
  deceased lover stretched forth her hand, no longer 
  impeded by the wall of glass, and grasped the lord of 
  Vultharesk by the throat. His scream, as he was pulled 
  bodily through the jagged opening in the mirror, echoed 
  across the entirety of the village of Vultharesk. Those 
  awakened by the shriek shivered in their beds, getting 
  up to double check their locks and shutters; those who 
  slept through it tossed and turned, wrapped in the grip 
  of awful nightmares. 
  The Mists gleefully claimed their prize. When the 
  fogs burned away beneath the following dawn, 
  everything looked the same to the people of 
  Vultharesk—but everything had changed. 
  Current Sketch 
  Trevor Godwyn has been condemned to a phantom 
  existence in an empty world, a pale shadow of the 
  Vultharesk he knew. He exists in the realm beyond the 
  mirror, and his only access to the outside world comes 
  by continuing the pattern of his own damnation—the 
  punishment of sinners. To the citizens of Vultharesk, 
  the Mirror Man is an ancient curse upon the land; they 
  have no knowledge of the fact that he was once their 
  hated lord and master. The Godwyn family, currently 
  ruled by Trevor’s grand-nephew Ambrose, refuses to 
  believe in any talk of such a creature—especially since 
  they are incapable of seeing Trevor, even during his 
  rare manifestations, and he himself is either unable, or 
  unwilling, to haunt them the way he does the villagers. 
  What the people of Vultharesk do know is that 
  should anyone, villager or stranger, commit any evil 
  deed or immoral act in view of even the smallest of 
  reflective surfaces, they will attract the malevolent 
  attentions of the Mirror Man. “Evil” and “immoral” are 
  defined, of course, by Godwyn’s own impossible sense 
  of right and wrong, and include everything from murder 
  or rape to telling a simple white lie, public rudeness, or 
  so much as glancing lustfully at a married woman. 
  From that date onward, anytime the perpetrator should 
  happen to glimpse his (or her) reflection, be it in a 
  mirror, a still pool of water, or the gleam of a soup 
  spoon, he will see, not his own face, but the gaunt and 
  desiccated face of the Mirror Man staring back at him. 
  All others will see the reflection as it should be; only 
  the chosen victim sees the horror looming before him. 
  His luck begins to change for the worse—this includes 
  an across-the-board penalty of –4 to all die rolls—but it 
  should extend beyond simple mechanics; the DM is 
  encouraged to think of all sorts of unpleasant events 
  and runs of ill fortune to befall the character. This lasts 
  either until the character is imprisoned in the mirror, or 
  until he leaves Vultharesk (though it will resume 
  immediately should the victim ever return; the Mirror 
  Man never forgets). 
  It only gets worse from there. Should the victim 
  ever glance into a mirror or reflective surface large 
  enough for a human being to squeeze through, he has 
  sealed his own fate. Again, this can be anything from a 
  full-length mirror to a wide puddle of water to a 
  polished suit of armor. At this point, Godwyn may step 
  forth from the mirror realm into the real world, 
  manifesting for all to see. He will then attack his chosen 
  victim, attempting to strike him with his bare hand, 
  reserving the long sword for those who attempt to aid 
  his target. Should Godwyn’s hand strike his victim—or 
  anyone to whom the Mirror Man has previously 
  appeared in a reflection—the victim must make a Will 
  Save (DC 20) or be sucked into the realm behind the 
  mirror. 
  Once Godwyn has manifested physically, he may 
  remain in the real world for exactly half a day (12 
  hours); while free, he usually uses the opportunity to 
  hunt down other chosen victims, those to whom he has 
  appeared, but who never looked into any surface large 
  enough for him to step through. When hunting down 
  anyone to whom he has previously manifested, Godwyn 
  can track them regardless of how they have traveled 
  (including flight, water travel, or magic), and he can see 
  through any attempts at disguise, hiding, invisibility, or 
  other mystic barriers. 
  It is difficult in the extreme, but Godwyn can be 
  slain while in the real world. Though he will eventually 
  reform behind the mirror, this will not occur until the 
  light of the next full moon. This period, then, is the 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT LOCALES 
  109 
  safest time to attempt the release of any of his trapped 
  victims. 
  Should anyone stand before a mirror or other 
  reflection in Vultharesk and call the name of any of the 
  Mirror Man’s victims, the face of the trapped soul may 
  (50% chance) appear to him in the reflection. The 
  victim cannot speak or communicate in any truly 
  meaningful way, though he can gesture. However, 
  Godwyn considers speaking to a trapped soul to be, in 
  and of itself, an immoral act; thus, calling on one of his 
  victims also attracts the attention of Godwyn himself 
  (this is why the safest time to do this is after Godwyn 
  has been slain, but before the next full moon). 
  It is also possible for random faces to appear to an 
  onlooker; should a mirror (or other reflective surface) 
  be struck by direct moonlight, there is a 25% chance 
  that a random victim of the Mirror Man will appear 
  briefly in the image, even if no name has been called. 
  In either case, once the victim has appeared, 
  someone in the real world may attempt to reach through 
  the mirror and pull him free. (Again, this can only be 
  done if Godwyn himself does not manifest and 
  interfere.) However, the mirror realm exerts a pull of its 
  own on those it has claimed; the would-be rescuer must 
  succeed in both a Will save and a Strength check, both 
  against DC 18. Failure on either one means that the 
  individual does not have the power to draw the victim 
  forth; someone else must make the attempt if they are to 
  succeed. Should both checks fail, the “rescuer” is 
  instead pulled into the mirror realm, just as if he had 
  failed a save against Godwyn’s touch attack. 
  Those trapped in the mirror realm are utterly 
  helpless; they see Vultharesk only as hazy and 
  indistinct outlines in a foggy landscape, they see their 
  fellow trapped souls just as nebulously, and they cannot 
  see people in the real world at all. Magic items, spells, 
  and powers all cease to function immediately. 
  Imprisoned souls cannot converse with each other, as 
  they quickly discover that they have no voice here. 
  Only should their name be called by someone before a 
  reflection, or should they be passing by such a surface 
  when the moonlight strikes it, can they then see into the 
  real world, and even this lasts but a few moments. Their 
  only hope is to be rescued by someone from outside; 
  otherwise, their imprisonment is indeed eternal. 
  Trapped victims cannot, of course, leave the Vultharesk 
  of the mirror realm; should they attempt to do so, they 
  find themselves briefly lost in a fog, only to return once 
  more to the center of town. The natives of Vultharesk 
  believe that strange flickers of motion or phantoms seen 
  from the corner of one’s eye are, in fact, the Mirror 
  Man’s victims, flitting about the town from mirror to 
  mirror, wailing silently for their release. 
  When trapped behind the mirror, Godwyn himself 
  can see little more than any of his victims. The only 
  people who appear distinct to him are his chosen 
  victims, or those committing acts to which he is drawn. 
  While here, he is haunted, too, by the constant sobs of 
  Olyana, though she has never appeared to him again 
  since the night of the Mists. 
  Closing the Borders 
  Godwyn cannot seal the borders of Vultharesk while 
  trapped in the mirror realm; only in the brief span while 
  he has manifested physically can he do so. During this 
  time, should he will his domain to be closed, the Mists 
  roll in from the peaks and valleys to block all roads 
  (and even flight) from Vultharesk. Anyone attempting 
  to pass through the fog finds himself quickly spit back 
  out in the exact spot they entered the Mists. 
  ! 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT LOCALES 
  110 
  MICTLAN 
  Nights of Blood and Obsidian 
  by Ryan Naylor 
  Schadenfreude13@hotmail.com 
   
  THE LAND 
  ictlan is a harsh land of extremes, one 
  hundred miles in diameter. During the day, 
  the sun beats down over the canopy of the 
  jungle, turning the air beneath the foliage 
  into a choking, humid oven. Plants thrive in the moist 
  soil, growing to colossal proportions despite the fact 
  that the burning sun quickly evaporates any 
  groundwater. In the few places where water is plentiful, 
  the jungle is so thick it can take hours or days to break 
  through the tangled mess. Many people have died of 
  thirst just a few feet from a river, held back by the 
  impenetrable thickets. For the warriors of this land, the 
  sun and lack of water are as deadly an enemy as their 
  human foes or the jungle beasts. 
  When the sun leaves the sky, the temperature falls 
  dramatically. Water re-condenses from the humid air 
  into a thick mist and clouds of mosquitoes and other 
  biting insects seem to rise from the soil, spreading pain 
  and disease through the jungle. Other predators slink 
  from the trees or their burrows to continue the violence 
  that consumes the domain. Their fear of these silent 
  killers is one of the few things that Mictlan’s native 
  race shares with the invaders they constantly battle. 
  Most natives live in crowded cities near the few 
  permanent water sources. By far the greatest of these is 
  Huanoquite, which is home to nearly twenty thousand 
  people. This massive city, easily ten times bigger than 
  the largest of its rivals, is built on a series of islands at 
  the center of the stagnant lake Jauja. The center of both 
  Huanoquite and Mictlan itself is a huge stepped 
  pyramid devoted to the fierce war god Huitzilopochtli. 
  Every morning and evening, people captured in battle 
  or those harvested from the peasantry are sadistically 
  tortured and sacrificed to Huitzilopochtli in this dark 
  temple. The ruler of Huanoquite, a fanatical priest 
  named Cuxi Yapanaque, lives entirely within the 
  ziggurat’s confines, overseeing his priests. The 
  towering pyramid is the greatest of the engineering 
  achievements that the natives have made despite their 
  lack of iron or domesticated animals. Stone causeways 
  link the city and its islands to the distant shore, 
  although many natives use simple canoes instead. The 
  causeways are pocked with narrow sections, wooden 
  bridges and steep inclines to prevent invasion. 
  Aqueducts arch above the causeways, bringing fresh 
  water to the teeming city. The lake’s rich soil has been 
  dredged up into island garden beds to supplement the 
  food supplied by the tribute Huanoquite exacts from the 
  other native cities. These islands have been used more 
  and more since Mouriros’ invasion as Huanoquite’s 
  once-undisputed empire begins to collapse. The 
  invaders themselves rely on the native allies and 
  intercepting Huanoquite’s tributes to survive. They 
  have no permanent camp and move all over the domain 
  besieging cities and ambushing Huanoquite’s warriors. 
  Cultural Level 
  Before Mouriros’ army invaded Mictlan, they came 
  from a chivalric Holy Empire. The jungle, however, is 
  completely devoid of iron and horses, as well as people 
  with the skills required to create smokepowder. 
  Although they have become quite adept at improvising 
  and exploiting the supplies that occasionally appear at 
  the borders of Mictlan, they will soon be forced to fight 
  without the advantages that smokepowder and 
  metallurgy brought them. 
  Despite their harsh environment, the natives have 
  managed to carve out a classical culture from the 
  unforgiving jungle. They typically use tools and 
  weapons made of wood, bone or stone, including 
  obsidian or fired clay, although a few lucky warriors 
  have managed to capture the invader’s steel swords. 
  The Folk 
  The people of Mictlan are divided easily into two 
  groups: the invaders and the natives. The native folk 
  average five and a half feet tall and are quite slender. 
  Their skin is reddish-brown and their hair and eyes 
  black. What little body hair they have they pluck out, 
  believing it to be unsightly. Because of the unrelenting 
  M 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT LOCALES 
  111 
  humidity, the natives typically wear nothing more than 
  cotton robes or even just a loincloth. When preparing 
  for battle or religious ceremonies, they paint their faces 
  with a mixture of colored clay and blood. Priests wear 
  ornate headdresses and pierce their ears, lips and noses 
  to show their devotion to the Bloody Handed God. 
  Like their counterparts in other realms, peasants 
  live harsh lives in Mictlan. As well as having to work to 
  support their hometowns by providing food and labor, 
  they are expected to fight in Mictlan’s endless wars as 
  well. If there are not enough captured invaders or native 
  enemies for the priests’ ceremonies, they are often 
  slaughtered on Huitzilopochtli’s altar to bring luck to 
  the more important warriors. They are far more afraid 
  of this grisly fate than the relatively easy death the 
  invaders offer, and so are driven into a savage frenzy in 
  battle. 
  In comparison, priests and professional warriors 
  lead privileged lives in their brutal culture. The warriors 
  constantly strive to become the greatest fighters in 
  Mictlan, earning themselves a special position in 
  Huitzilopochtli’s eternal host. They are divided into 
  different lodges, each of which is centered in a different 
  city and devoted to emulating a different jungle 
  predator. To show their special status, warriors 
  ritualistically tattoo and scar themselves, and wear 
  ornate armor made of quetzal feathers, wood and 
  precious stones. Huanoquite is home to the Eagle and 
  Jaguar Warriors, which are fierce rivals. Contingents of 
  these elite warriors are placed in every loyal city to 
  ensure they remain loyal—at any cost. Yapanaque 
  recently gave his permission for the warriors to act 
  against the ruling priests if necessary, prompting a rash 
  of murderous uprisings in protest. These fighters are 
  noble, savage and devoid of fear or mercy. 
  Unfortunately, the unnatural weapons and horrific 
  abilities of their enemies have thrown the lodges into 
  confusion. Late at night, they whisper amongst 
  themselves that the people of Mictlan have strayed from 
  the path their war god intended for them and the 
  invaders are Huitzilopochtli’s host sent to punish them. 
  The black robed priests that lead their cities 
  brutally punish those found spreading these rumors. 
  More than one person found spreading this heresy has 
  been dragged into the smoky temple of Huitzilopochtli, 
  where they are agonizingly tortured and then sacrificed. 
  The number of sacrifices always increases before and 
  after major battles, but even during relatively peaceful 
  periods at least one person is sacrificed at dawn and at 
  dusk every day. Yapanaque teaches that if this 
  ceremony isn’t performed every day, the invaders will 
  conquer Mictlan and the jungle will be destroyed. 
  Because of this gory role in their society, priests always 
  reek of spilled blood and have chunks of flesh and 
  blood clots tangling their hair. Everyone in Mictlan 
  holds the priests in fear and awe, including the 
  invaders. 
  The invaders are taller and more solid than the 
  natives and have lighter skin. Their hair ranges from 
  blond to red to black and almost everyone sports a thick 
  moustache or beard. When they rode into the jungle six 
  years ago, every man was mounted on a horse and 
  equipped with a plate mail breastplate, helmet and 
  sword or smokepowder weapon. The warriors were 
  famed for their military skill and ingenuity, and no one 
  believed a few savages could withstand this mighty 
  conquering army led by the famous Commander 
  Mouriros. During the endless war, however, half the 
  horses were killed and much of their equipment lost. No 
  longer are they the splendid, shining knights that 
  marched across the Sierra Acora to conquer the newly 
  discovered jungle civilization. Now, every man is 
  covered in mud and cuts, tired and thirsty, their armor 
  dented and scratched. Although occasionally the 
  invaders discover a cache of the supplies that 
  miraculously appear at the edge of Mictlan, they are the 
  pitiful remains of a once proud army. 
  When the invaders reached the first native city, the 
  awed natives received them peacefully. After 
  examining their strange appearance and weapons, the 
  priests of Huitzilopochtli pronounced that Mouriros and 
  his men were spirits sent from the war god to reward 
  them. Mouriros eagerly received the priests’ tribute of 
  gold and gems, then had the messengers butchered to 
  demonstrate the inferiority of their civilization. A day 
  later, the army attacked. Although they were vastly 
  outnumbered, the cavalry and smokepowder weapons of 
  the invaders decimated the native army, and they easily 
  captured the town. Mouriros ordered that all the blood 
  soaked priests were to be burnt alive and the other men 
  stabbed and left to die. The women were raped and then 
  executed. 
  During the battle, a native spear wounded 
  Mouriros’ nephew Francisco. The youth suffered 
  terribly through the cold night, while mosquitoes and 
  leeches swarmed over him. The army priest, Patos 
  Bartolemo, gave him what comfort he could, and 
  Francisco survived through the night. The next day, he 
  lay suffering and moaning as the temperature and 
  humidity climbed. Despite a fever and the beginnings 
  of gangrene, Francisco survived, although he was in 
  incredible pain and more than a little unhinged by the 
  experience. The invaders were amazed—the 
  experienced fighters had seen many men killed by 
  wounds such as Francisco had suffered, but eventually 
  the boy was able to resume his duties. 
  This was the first incidence of the horrific curse 
  that the invaders have labored under for six years. It is 
  impossible to kill them in battle. Regardless of how 
  badly wounded they are, the warriors regenerate 2 hit 
  points a day until they are completely recovered. The 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT LOCALES 
  112 
  invaders can still feel pain, however, and often are 
  forced to suffer for weeks in agony while their injuries 
  heal. Every man is wasted with exhaustion and hunger 
  and covered in raw wounds that often become infected. 
  Most suffer from some sort of mental disturbance, 
  particularly depression. They want nothing more than to 
  end their pain with death. Until Mouriros forbade it, 
  Patos Bartolemo preached that this suffering was the 
  invaders’ penance for inflicting similar agonies upon 
  the natives. 
  The invaders are not truly invulnerable, however. 
  Every time Mouriros’ army even temporarily conquers 
  one of the natives’ cities, one of the invaders dies. They 
  are so consumed with the desire to end their suffering 
  that they eagerly push Mouriros to capture native towns 
  so their suffering can end, although this means it is 
  becoming less and less likely the army will be able to 
  conquer Mictlan. The unfortunate Patos Bartolemo 
  discovered that being sacrificed to Huitzilopochtli also 
  results in the final death of the crusader, although only 
  the most desperate or unlucky are forced to endure this 
  long and torturous demise. Since then, Mouriros has 
  conducted the religious services himself. 
  The invulnerable invading army has had a drastic 
  effect upon the native civilization. Generations ago, the 
  fierce Eagle and Jaguar Warriors of Huanoquite united 
  all of Mictlan’s once-independent cities into a vast 
  tributary empire. Since then, Huanoquite has been 
  undisputed ruler of the jungle civilization, keeping the 
  smaller settlements in terrified obedience with its 
  superior military might. The arrival of the invaders, 
  however, destroyed this stability completely. With a 
  new ally against their hated overlords, the minor towns 
  began revolting. This sparked the constant war that has 
  raged across Mictlan for six years. The smaller towns 
  ceaselessly wheel between Huanoquite and the 
  invaders, playing one side against the other. To 
  Yapanaque’s frustration, no sooner does Huanoquite’s 
  massive army re-conquer one city than another rebels, 
  preventing him from regaining control of his empire 
  and destroying the invaders. The constant revolts are a 
  double-edged sword for Mouriros as well, for each time 
  he captures a city, his army shrinks further. He has 
  discovered that simply allying with a city does not 
  cause the deaths of one of his men, but the natives show 
  no more loyalty to Mouriros than they do to 
  Yapanaque. The commander has been forced to rely on 
  native allies rather than conquered vassals to fight the 
  armies of Huanoquite. Once the massive city has fallen 
  to the invaders, Mouriros will return his gaze to the 
  minor cities. Still, he is forced to use more and more 
  devious tactics to preserve his men and ensure the 
  loyalty of his allies. 
  The Law 
  As commander of the invading army, Mouriros’ 
  commands are carried out unquestioningly. He exerts 
  strict military discipline over his army despite their 
  trying circumstances, and punishes any insubordination 
  fiercely. Although his public floggings are legendary, 
  the invaders are more afraid of being forced to endure 
  Mouriros’ private torture sessions, where even a touch 
  of his hand seems to enflame his victim’s nerves. With 
  the death of Patos Bartolemo, no one has the authority 
  to challenge his decisions, and he refuses to allow any 
  of his subordinates, except his nephew, to gain enough 
  influence to challenge him. He does, however, reward 
  success equally lavishly, and most of his forces regard 
  him as a brilliant leader and strategist. They remain 
  loyal to him through a mixture of fear, respect and hope 
  that he can somehow end their tortured existence. 
  The priests of the native cities are the undisputed 
  leaders of their race. They maintain a steady stream of 
  sacrifices to ensure Huitzilopochtli smiles upon their 
  warriors, and ensure that their city (and hence 
  themselves) is served as best as possible by the 
  constantly shifting politics. The most powerful priest in 
  Mictlan is Cuxi Yapanaque, who continues to demand 
  tribute and issue proclamations and threats to the 
  smaller cities. Although generally only those 
  commands that are enforced by the Eagle or Jaguar 
  Warriors are obeyed, the priests do obey Yapanaque’s 
  order that a sacrifice is to be made at sunrise and sunset 
  every day. Although many cities would like to see 
  Huanoquite in ruins, no one wants the invaders to 
  triumph. If there are not sufficient captured warriors to 
  sacrifice, they turn on their own people to appease the 
  war god, and the warriors and peasants are too terrified 
  of this fate to speak out. 
  The lodge warriors also wield considerable 
  influence in the natives’ warlike society. The respect 
  peasants hold for the majestically armored fighters is a 
  mixture of fear and awe for their abilities. The peasants 
  tell many tales about the lodges’ secret rites and 
  magical powers. According to legend, many lodge 
  warriors are able to assume the form of the animal they 
  emulate. The peasant’s fear is not solely because of 
  their mystic abilities, however—the warriors control the 
  peasants’ lives on the battlefield, and the enemies they 
  capture are all that prevents them from being sacrificed 
  to Huitzilopochtli. 
  Native Player Characters 
  Characters native to Mictlan are drawn from the 
  peasantry or junior soldiers of either army. Members of 
  Mouriros’ army receive a +2 bonus to Constitution but 
  a –2 penalty to Wisdom. The natives receive a +2 bonus 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT LOCALES 
  113 
  to fear checks involving scenes of blood and gore, since 
  they are subjected to them every day in their religious 
  ceremonies, but must make a Wisdom check to avoid 
  blindly obeying others’ commands. 
  Warriors are very common in this savage domain, 
  particularly fighters and avengers, although thieves are 
  widespread. Rangers are less common than might be 
  expected because of the many dangerous beasts that 
  lurk under the jungle’s canopy. Native rangers can 
  apply their missile attack adjustment (as determined by 
  their Dexterity score) to both their attack and damage 
  rolls when using slings or spears, instead of straight 
  bows which are unknown in their culture. They are also 
  unable to calm Mictlan’s wild animals. 
  Classes relying on education such as priests are 
  also rare in this primitive land. The native priests of 
  Huitzilopochtli are able to cast spells from the spheres 
  of All, Combat, Elemental Air and Fire, Necromancy, 
  Sun, War and Weather, but these murderous holy men 
  are not appropriate as player characters. A few invaders 
  received a small amount of training in the mystic arts 
  from Patos Bartolemo before he died and their god, 
  Matherion, grants them major access to the All, 
  Combat, Guardian, Law, War and Wards spheres, and 
  minor access to Necromantic and Protection spells. 
  These crusaders must be lawful and their THAC0 
  advances as though they were warriors rather than 
  priests. 
  Wizards, gypsies, anchorites, and psionicists are 
  unheard of in Mictlan. 
  Personalities of Note 
  Hernando Mouriros and Cuxi Yapanaque are 
  undoubtedly the most powerful people in Mictlan. 
  Yapanaque despises the invaders, and eagerly pursues 
  the war of attrition against them. He is a chaotic evil 
  12th-level priest of Huitzilopochtli, although he has 
  been unable to cast spells since the invaders conquered 
  their first city. He has managed to conceal this from the 
  other priests, well aware of how quickly they would 
  turn against him if they knew of his disfavor. In his 
  rabid lust to restore himself in the eyes of his god, 
  Yapanaque has ordered that the invaders be captured at 
  all costs to feed Huitzilopochtli, and always oversees 
  their torture personally. Mouriros repays his fanatical 
  hatred in kind, blaming the murderous priest for the 
  curse that afflicts his men and prevents him from 
  conquering the jungle. Both men would eagerly do 
  anything if it would result in the other’s death. 
  It is widely known in the invading army that 
  Mouriros’ one real weakness is his fondness for his 
  nephew Francisco. After the young man’s miraculous 
  recovery, Mouriros had him promoted to captain. 
  Recently, however, it has become apparent that 
  Mouriros may have schooled his nephew too well. 
  Francisco is gathering a measure of support from the 
  junior officers and younger soldiers who have grown 
  tired of Mouriros’ maneuverings and simply wish to 
  end the war. Francisco is planning to supplant his uncle 
  as the army’s commander and some say that he is 
  dealing with Yapanaque to achieve this. Mouriros 
  himself may be unaware of Francisco’s plot, or he may 
  be using it to lure Yapanaque and the traitors in his own 
  camp further into a trap. The commander is very 
  perceptive and has used similar tactics to purge his 
  army before. 
  Encounters 
  There is a 33% chance of an encounter in Mictlan four 
  times a day. During the daytime, most encounters will 
  be with either the invaders or the natives, who 
  constantly send out hunters and war parties. The 
  invaders are 4th-level fighters armed with long swords 
  or a smokepowder weapon and a plate mail breastplate, 
  giving them AC 6. Native war parties are composed of 
  first level fighters armed with bolas, obsidian-studded 
  clubs, spears, slings or swords. They are lead by a lodge 
  warrior—a 3rd-level fighter with similar weapons but 
  AC 8 from their ornate armor. Some lodge warriors are 
  maledictive lycanthropes whose phenotype corresponds 
  to the animal sacred to their lodge. Werejaguars and 
  wereeagles (which can be treated as chaotic evil 
  wereravens) are the most common, although werebears, 
  wereanacondas and wereboars do exist. Both groups 
  attempt to capture the strangers. Natives will hand them 
  over to the priests of their city to be sacrificed, while 
  the invaders will cannibalize what equipment they can 
  before executing them or inducting them into their 
  army. One month after they are inducted, the invader’s 
  terrible curse will spread to the newcomers. 
  At night or in more isolated areas of the jungle, the 
  vicious jungle beasts stalk through the humid shadows 
  to attack luckless intruders into their territory. As well 
  as animals that could normally be expected in a jungle, 
  nagas and couatl lurk beneath the canopy. Isolated 
  tribes of yuan-ti, ghouls and tabaxi kidnap or devour 
  whomever they come across. A trio of rakshasa, named 
  Lord Smoking Mirror, Jade Petticoat and 
  Hummingbird, move from city to city, spreading chaos 
  and evil. 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT LOCALES 
  114 
  Commander Hernando 
  Mouriros 
  Lord of Mictlan 
  10th-level Fighter, Lawful Evil 
  Armor Class 
  2 
   
   
   
  Str  
  11 
  Movement 
  12  
   
   
  Dex  
  16 
  Level/Hit Dice 
  10  
   
   
  Con  
  12 
  Hit Points 
  62  
   
   
  Int  
  17 
  THAC0 
  11  
   
   
  Wis  
  9 
  No. of Attacks 
  2 (long sword) 
  Cha  
  17 
  or 3/4 (pistol) 
  Damage/Attack 
  By weapon, typically 1d8 
  Special Attacks 
  Inflict pain or cause disease with 
  touch 
  Special Defenses  
  None 
  Magic Resistance 
  50% 
  As commander of the invading army, Hernando 
  Mouriros has access to the finest resources available to 
  his army. Like most of the soldiers at his command, 
  Mouriros is a little less than six feet tall. His dark hair 
  and goatee are always elegantly trimmed, and one 
  soldier is always charged with ensuring that his ornate 
  breastplate, helmet and weapons are brightly polished 
  and in good condition. His blue eyes and air of strength 
  and determination give him a palpable aura of control, 
  both over himself and his army and their collective fate. 
  Background 
  Mouriros was born forty-three years ago in the city of 
  Turon, the capital city of the vast Holy Empire. His 
  mother was a seamstress who died giving birth to a 
  younger sister when Hernando was ten years old, and 
  his father was a simple laborer. The brutal man beat his 
  wife and children and spent what little money that had 
  on alcohol. Hernando was often forced to listen with his 
  small fists clenched in rage to the drunken man beating 
  his wife when he returned home drunk. In the marble 
  city at the heart of Matherion’s holy empire, the 
  Mouriros family lived in fear and misery. 
  When his father took the young Hernando to 
  remove his mother’s body from the Hospice where she 
  had died, Hernando stared for a long time at her pale 
  corpse. His mother was thin and wasted from disease; 
  her hand were scarred and callused from her harsh 
  lifetime of work. In that moment, Hernando swore to 
  rise from the gutter in which he had been born and 
  make something of his life. When his father came back 
  into the room holding his newborn daughter and the 
  forlorn bag of his wife’s possessions, Hernando felt a 
  wave of hatred sweep over him. It was this man, he 
  realized, that had caused his mother’s death, with his 
  neglect, constant abuse and drunkenness. Six months 
  later, when the older Mouriros took another wife, 
  Hernando finally snapped. Anxious neighbors called 
  the city guard after hearing the terrible argument from 
  the Mouriros family’s house. The guardsmen found 
  Hernando beaten almost to death. After arresting 
  Hernando’s father, they took the boy to heal at the same 
  Hospice where his mother died. As soon as he had 
  recovered, Hernando joined the guards. 
  Hernando was completely devoted to the guards 
  who had saved his life. For many years he worked 
  obsessively, moving steadily through the ranks. 
  Although he came to regard his family as an 
  unwelcome reminder of his low origins, he continued to 
  send them money regularly. In return, they maintained 
  their distance. His natural aptitude and determination to 
  succeed allowed him to move from the city watch into 
  the Imperial Army, where he was eventually promoted 
  to captain. Those disgruntled men he stepped over on 
  his meteoric rise murmured sullenly that his promotions 
  were due to blackmail, adultery and bribes more than 
  his physical talents. On the one occasion Mouriros was 
  tried for misconduct, he maintained that they were 
  simply jealous of the love his men felt for him despite 
  his not being born into the nobility. His silver tongue 
  and rapier wit managed to convince the tribunal that the 
  accusations of sadism and bribery were unfounded. 
  Gradually, the Imperial Court became aware of the 
  dashing new captain in their army and his unusual 
  origins. The emperor and empress requested that 
  Hernando meet with them, and he readily agreed. The 
  Imperial Couple were quite impressed with the suave 
  and self-possessed young man and the opulent 
  surrounds and the royal family that represented 
  everything he wished to achieve enchanted the captain. 
  As he prepared to leave, the empress gave him a token 
  of her esteem—a small lace handkerchief embossed 
  with the sigil of Matherion—and guaranteed that he 
  would go far in the Imperial army. Mouriros was 
  overcome with a wave of emotion at her words and 
  swore to do all he could to speed his advancement. 
  Mouriros was immediately placed in command of a 
  large garrison of Imperial soldiers. At the same time, 
  the emperor declared a crusade against all the heathens 
  and pagans that lived on the outskirts of the Empire. To 
  prove that the Imperial Family were justified in 
  entrusting such a responsibility to him, Mouriros 
  joyously threw himself into the task, determined to 
  show his loyalty and win for himself the elegant 
  lifestyle he believed he was entitled to. Mouriros 
  became famous throughout the Holy Empire for his 
  uncompromising nature and devious tactics. His name 
  was held in terror by the thousands of pagans that he 
  captured and brought into Matherion’s loving arms. 
  Those who refused to convert were tortured until they 
  did so and then executed. Some people whispered that 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT LOCALES 
  115 
  Mouriros was too zealous in persecuting his enemies 
  and enjoyed his work too much, but it was obvious 
  when he returned to court that he was completely 
  devoted to the Imperial and divine wills. 
  For ten years, Mouriros fought, tortured and 
  conquered the heathens. His fury in persecuting them 
  was unmatched and although he suffered occasional 
  setbacks, his army always triumphed eventually. During 
  this time, Hernando received news that his father had 
  been released from prison. An apparently reformed 
  character, the man had sworn to avoid alcohol and help 
  the poor avoid fates like his own. Shortly after, the man 
  was beaten to death in an alley by a group of thugs, 
  who were never apprehended. The sole witness to the 
  brutality maintained that one of the men had been 
  wearing the armor of an army officer, although, as a 
  foreigner, his testimony was never accepted. When he 
  was informed of his father’s death on a dark and misty 
  night, Hernando tried vainly to conceal his pleasure and 
  sent a message to his family. The note informed them 
  that he would pay them handsomely if Francisco, his 
  nephew, would come and join Hernando’s command. 
  They were never to contact either Mouriros man again. 
  Finally, Mouriros was called to the Imperial Court 
  once more. The emperor excitedly informed him that 
  the Sierra Acora, which was though to represent an 
  impassable edge to the world, had finally been 
  traversed. On the other side of the high mountains, a 
  jungle paradise had been found. As the Empire’s most 
  successful and zealous commander, Mouriros and his 
  army were to conquer the new land and any people they 
  discovered there. In return, the emperor would make the 
  commander marquis of the new land. 
  Within two days, Mouriros’ army was marching 
  towards the newly discovered land. They traversed the 
  treacherous Sierra Acora with the concerted efforts of 
  all the priests, lead by the puissant Patos Bartolemo. 
  Mouriros proudly rode at the front of the army as they 
  rode into Mictlan, his mind filled with plans for the new 
  realm and its natives after he had conquered it. With the 
  slave labor the natives would provide, Mouriros would 
  live in opulence at the head of a mercantile empire. The 
  fact that they might not fall as easily to his small army 
  as the other heathens had never entered his proud mind. 
  From the moment he laid eyes upon the blood 
  soaked priests and their brutal vassals, Mouriros 
  became convinced that the pagans were heretics of the 
  worst kind, suitable only for slavery or extermination. 
  As they seemed to understand nothing more than 
  murder and savagery, Mouriros swore to use these tools 
  to bring them into the Holy Empire at any cost. He 
  eagerly accepted what he saw as the natives’ attempt to 
  bribe the invaders with tribute, then attacked the city, 
  fighting at the head of his men. Every man, woman and 
  child was brutally murdered at Mouriros’ command, 
  giving him a sense of pleasure and achievement of a 
  magnitude he had never experienced before. As a thick 
  mist began to rise from the soil, Mouriros threw back 
  his head and laughed at the sensual pleasure of 
  brutality. 
  Since their first battle, Mouriros has obsessively 
  pursued his campaign of terror and cruelty. Hernando 
  Mouriros has never broken a vow before and he is 
  determined that Mictlan’s obstinate natives will not 
  make him break his latest oath. 
  Current Sketch 
  Mouriros is determined to bring Mictlan under his heel 
  through any means necessary. The curse over his men, 
  which grants them immortality but saps their spirits and 
  prevents him from capturing the natives’ cities, 
  frustrates him immensely. Apart from his nephew, 
  whom he indulges constantly since Francisco’s brush 
  with death six years ago, he cares nothing for the 
  soldiers under his command. As long as they obey his 
  harsh commands, he cares nothing for their emotional 
  and physical suffering. They represent a means to an 
  end and nothing more. Without his army, Mouriros 
  knows that he has no hope of conquering the jungle and 
  finally realizing his dream. 
  His inability to conquer cities without reducing his 
  tiny army further chafes at him relentlessly. The 
  commander walks a fine line between conquering the 
  cities and maintaining an army large enough to keep 
  control of his allies and vassals. Used to the flawless 
  military discipline of his men, the chaotic behavior of 
  the unpredictable natives frustrates him to the point of 
  madness. No sooner has he confirmed a plan to conquer 
  one city than his allies will realign themselves with 
  Huanoquite. To try to maintain control over his allies, 
  the commander has tried every tactic from assassination 
  to wholesale kidnapping, but almost nothing works. 
  One city’s captured women attacked their guards before 
  either escaping or committing suicide. At times, the 
  natives’ brutality and alien culture almost scares the 
  seasoned commander, driving him to even greater 
  lengths to capture the natives and force them to act in 
  an intelligible fashion. The self-discipline and 
  authoritarian control that once served him so well is one 
  of Mouriros’ greatest handicaps in the alien jungle of 
  Mictlan. 
  At times, Mouriros still dreams of his brutal, 
  drunken father and he awakes from these horrific 
  nightmares more determined than ever to conquer 
  Mictlan. Everything in the fetid jungle reminds him of 
  his lust to make something of himself, while at the 
  same time reminding him of why he can’t succeed. His 
  unbending laws are of no use in the wild, unpredictable 
  jungle. His men are the perfect soldiers—lethal and 
  unable to be killed—but are of no use in conquering the 
  land. His allies are completely alien and no more loyal 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT LOCALES 
  116 
  to him than they are to Huanoquite. Frustration gnaws 
  endlessly at Mouriros. He is determined to either 
  conquer or totally destroy the jungle. As more and more 
  time goes by and his sanity begins to wear away from 
  the pressure he puts himself under to succeed, the 
  second alternative seems more and more likely. 
  Closing the Borders 
  When Mouriros wishes to seal the domain, the jungle 
  become still and quiet. This silence covers the domain 
  completely. Terror spreads through the cities and camps 
  as people find themselves unable to speak or hear. In 
  the unearthly silence, tendrils of mist begin to rise from 
  the soil, flowing slowly towards Mictlan’s borders. 
  There, they condense into the forms of all those who 
  have been killed in the jungle since the war began. 
  Anyone attempting to force their way through this silent 
  army discovers that they become more and more real as 
  the escapees move further away from Huanoquite. If 
  they do not turn back, they are hacked to pieces by the 
  undead host. Moments later, their spirits rise from their 
  bodies to join the silent guard and fight against their 
  living comrades. 
  Combat 
  Mouriros has all the abilities of a normal 7th-level 
  fighter. He is specialized in the use of the long sword 
  and always keeps a brightly polished long sword and 
  wheellock pistol available at all times in case of 
  assassins sent by Yapanaque. His low Armor Class is 
  due to his ornate field plate breastplate and arm guards 
  as well as his high Dexterity. 
  Mouriros can cause disease or inflict pain at will 
  with a simple touch of his hand or from his sword. If 
  the victim fails a saving throw versus poison, he is 
  consumed with agony for one round and can take no 
  other action, or contracts a debilitating disease. 
  Mouriros uses this ability to punish both prisoners and 
  soldiers who violate one of the many laws he uses to 
  keep control of the army. 
  Unlike the rest of the invaders, Mouriros can be 
  killed in battle, although he is too intelligent to become 
  trapped in situations dangerous enough to make this 
  likely. If he should die, however, his body bursts into 
  flame. Anything that touches this magical fire will 
  instantly be set alight, although these secondary fires 
  can be extinguished normally. If Mictlan somehow 
  survives this fierce blaze, Yapanaque will probably 
  become the new darklord, but the chances of much of 
  Huanoquite’s empire remaining after the fire is small. 
  What Mouriros could not capture in life, he may 
  destroy in death. 
  ! 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT LOCALES 
  117 
  NEW MONSTERS  
  FOR NOSOS 
  TWO CREATURES THAT CRAWLED OUT OF THE GUTTER 
  by Luis Fernando De Pippo 
  lfdepippo@ciudad.com.ar 
   
  INTRODUCTION 
  ithin the filthy land of Nosos many normal 
  things become diseased and corrupted. For 
  the lord of the land, nothing is more 
  beautiful than the destruction of the realm. 
  The following monsters are most frequently found in 
  Nosos. 
  GARBAGE GOLEM 
  Climate/Terrain 
  Nosos 
  Frequency 
  Very Rare 
  Organization 
  Solitary 
  Activity Cycle 
  Any 
  Diet 
  None 
  Intelligence 
  Non- (0) or Supra-Genius (19) 
  Treasure 
  Nil 
  Alignment 
  Neutral Evil 
  No. Appearing 
  1 
  Armor Class 
  6 
  Movement 
  12 
  Hit Dice 
  5 (50 hit points) 
  THAC0 
  16 
  No. of Attacks 
  2 
  Damage/Attacks 
  1d8/1d8 
  Special Attacks 
  Disease, spoils the land, surprise 
  Special Defenses 
  Immune to all spells but fire spells, 
  hit by +1 or better weapons, 
  regeneration 
  Magic Resistance 
  See below 
  Size 
  L (8’) 
  Morale 
  Fearless (20) 
  XP Value 
  3.000 
  The garbage golem appears as a vaguely humanoid 
  figure without any facial features, composed of rotting 
  garbage. These golems are mindless, as are most typical 
  golems, but their alignment is always evil, even when 
  not controlled by Malus. These golems delight, if an 
  autonomaton can delight, in the destruction of the land. 
  Combat 
  The garbage golem is a straightforward combatant. 
  When ordered to attack it will simply keep coming until 
  destroyed. When ordered to defend a place, it will stand 
  its ground and attack anyone who approaches. The 
  golem’s fists inflict 1d8 points of damage and force a 
  saving throw vs. poison. Failure to save means that the 
  victim has caught a fatal disease; the victim loses 1 
  point of Constitution per day until his death. The 
  disease manifests as painful cramps. During its course it 
  will cramp random muscles of the body and eventually 
  kill the afflicted person (when the Constitution reaches 
  0). The disease can be cured by a cure disease spell, 
  and a victim who does nothing but rest quietly all day 
  will not lose a point of Constitution that day. Every day 
  spent in complete rest prevents the Constitution loss, 
  but if any physical activity is undertaken, however 
  minimal, then the disease will run its course. After the 
  cure disease is cast the recovering victim remains 
  bedridden for two days, as the cure is not instantaneous. 
  The golem despoils the land it walks upon. Nothing 
  will grow in its path unless care is taken to clean the 
  land, something that it is not done in Nosos. The golem 
  can also assume a non-humanoid form. It can 
  discorporate itself and pass as one of the piles of refuse 
  so common in Nosos. When in this form it can reform 
  and attack with surprise in the same round. The golem 
  can only be hit only with +1 or better magical weapons 
  and is immune to all spells, except those that use fire. 
  Fire magic inflicts full damage, and normal fire causes 
  half damage. Even a heated nonmagical weapon can be 
  used to strike a golem, but it only inflicts half damage. 
  W 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT THINGS 
  118 
  While in contact with garbage, the usual state of 
  affairs in Nosos, the golem regenerates 1 hit point per 
  round and can even regenerate fire damage. A garbage 
  golem is destroyed if it is brought to –10 hit points and 
  burned; otherwise it will regenerate back to full hit 
  points if left in contact with garbage. If the golem is 
  brought to negative hit points, but not to –10, it is 
  incapacitated but not destroyed. If it is brought to an 
  area with lots of garbage it will start regenerating. 
  If a garbage golem is destroyed it will explode and 
  rain refuse on its destroyers (10% chance that rot grubs 
  are in the garbage). 
  As stated, garbage golems are mindless, but Malus 
  can control them at will; thus at times it may appear 
  that the mindless golem can exhibit great intelligence 
  and formulate complicated plans. This can came to a 
  great shock for the party battling one. 
  Habitat/Society 
  All garbage golems—which fortunately number only 
  ten—were created by a wizard at the request of Malus 
  Sceleris. Malus desired some personal bodyguards that 
  could also spread his “gift” of devastation through 
  whatever little unspoiled land remained in Nosos. The 
  golems are all under the control of Malus and will never 
  attack him. He can see what they see and can direct the 
  action of a golem as if he was in its body. They are 
  usually scattered throughout Nosos so Malus can 
  monitor his domain. If Malus is attacked all garbage 
  golems will rush to his defense. The golems also share 
  his curse: they cannot leave Nosos, frustrating Malus 
  with his inability to spread his “gift” to other lands. 
  Ecology 
  Garbage golems are not natural creatures and actually 
  disrupt the ecology of the places they are in. Druids 
  cannot tolerate the presence of these monsters, but 
  druids seldom travel through Nosos. The wizard who 
  created these golems for Malus was killed shortly 
  thereafter, and no attempt to duplicate his work has 
  been made. 
  Garbage Elemental 
  Climate/Terrain 
  Nosos 
  Frequency 
  Very rare 
  Organization 
  Solitary 
  Activity Cycle 
  Any 
  Diet 
  None 
  Intelligence 
  Low (5–7) 
  Treasure 
  Nil 
  Alignment 
  Neutral 
  No. Appearing 
  1 
  Armor Class 
  0 
  Movement 
  6 
  Hit Dice 
  8, 12, 16 
  THAC0 
  8 Hit Dice: 13 
  12 Hit Dice: 9 
  16 Hit Dice: 5 
  No. of Attacks 
  1 
  Damage/Attacks 
  4d10 
  Special Attacks 
  Disease 
  Special Defenses 
  See Below 
  Magic Resistance 
  Nil 
  Size 
  8 Hit Dice: L (8’ Tall) 
  12 Hit Dice: L (12’ Tall) 
  16 Hit Dice: H (16’ Tall) 
  Morale 
  Fanatic (17–18) 
  XP Value 
  8 Hit Dice: 3,000 
  12 Hit Dice: 7,000 
  16 Hit Dice: 11,000 
  For general information see Elemental, Ravenloft, 
  General Information in the RAVENLOFT MONSTROUS 
  COMPENDIUM Appendix I. 
  The garbage elemental is a variant earth elemental 
  that can only be summoned in Nosos, specifically in 
  areas of huge garbage deposits. It appears as a 
  towering, man-shaped mass of earth with garbage 
  exuding from it. Attempts to summon any earth or 
  grave elemental in Nosos results in a garbage 
  elemental. 
  Combat 
  A garbage elemental cannot travel through fire, but can 
  travel in the water. It can lurk beneath the stinking piles 
  of garbage of Nosos while would-be victims draw near. 
  When they pass right above it, the elemental explodes 
  upwards and attacks, imposing a –4 penalty on all 
  surprise rolls. 
  When garbage elementals engage in combat, their 
  preferred means of attack is a simple blow from their 
  mighty fists. The damage they inflict is dependant on 
  their size: 8 Hit Dice elementals deliver 4d8 points of 
  damage, 12 Hit Dice elementals deliver 4d10 points of 
  damage, and the massive 16 Hit Dice elementals inflict 
  4d12 points of damage. 
  Garbage elementals are less effective when striking 
  targets that are airborne or made of fire (such as pyre 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT THINGS 
  119 
  elementals). Any physical damage they inflict is 
  reduced by 2 points per die (to a minimum of 1 point 
  per die). They are susceptible to magical fire, receiving 
  one extra point of damage for each die rolled. 
  Every time an opponent strikes a bgarbage 
  elemental, that opponent must make an immediate 
  saving throw vs. poison. Failure to save means that the 
  character has contracted a fatal disease; this disease 
  performed identically to that carried by garbage golems, 
  above. Obviously this attack does not work on golems 
  or other elementals. 
  If destroyed, garbage elementals collapse into a 
  lifeless pile of rotting refuse. 
  ! 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT THINGS 
  120 
  OWLMAY 
  A Shapeshifter Who Moves on Silent Wings 
  by Hugo Viegas Nascimento 
  shadowspawn_the_dragon@hotmail.com 
   
  INTRODUCTION 
  n some civilizations, the owl is the symbol 
  of wisdom. In others, it is seen as an ill 
  omen, a creature of night and death, a 
  guardian and summoner of restless spirits. In 
  the Demiplane of Dread, there is a small group of 
  women who take the owl as their symbol of natural 
  guidance, forging a life-long alliance with Nature 
  through these noble but not fully understood creatures. 
  Owlmays have formed a unique sorority dedicated 
  to protecting natural life, yet they suffer from the bond 
  they forge with the land, hoping against hope that it will 
  not make them evil creatures themselves. They seek to 
  protect life, yet many of the living shun them for their 
  totem and for the attitudes some of them take against 
  people. Such actions are almost always well-
  intentioned, but as with all good intentions, sometimes 
  they lead to disaster and suffering. 
  Owlmay 
  Climate/Terrain 
  Temperate wetlands and forests 
  Frequency 
  Very rare 
  Organization 
  Solitary 
  Activity Cycle 
  Any 
  Diet 
  Omnivore 
  Intelligence 
  High to Genius (13–18) 
  Treasure 
  See below 
  Alignment 
  Per class 
  No. Appearing 
  1 
  Armor Class 
  6 
  Movement 
  12 (as humanoid), 1, Fl 27 (D) or 3, 
  Fl 18 (E) 
  Hit Dice 
  Per class 
  THAC0 
  Per class 
  Attacks 
  3 or per class 
  Damage 
  1–2/1–2/1 (as owl), 2–8/2–8/2–5 (as 
  giant owl) or by weapon 
  Special Attacks 
  See below 
  Special Defenses 
  +1 weapon to hit (animal form only) 
  Size 
  S (owl) / M (humanoid) / L (giant 
  owl) 
  Morale 
  Champion (15) 
  Magic Resistance 
  2% per Hit Die 
  XP Value 
  Varies 
  Similar to the swanmays in other worlds, owlmays 
  are females who can shapeshift into owl form. They are 
  protectors of wildlife and nature, and almost always 
  take on a career as rangers, although roughly 10% 
  choose to become caretakers (druids) instead. An 
  owlmay that achieves 8th level in either class is able to 
  assume a second shape, of a giant horned owl. In the 
  case of a caretaker owlmay, her shapechanging ability 
  is in addition to the similar powers she gains upon 
  reaching the 5th Circle of Initiation (7th level). 
  Different from wereowls, owlmays are usually 
  indistinguishable from other people, resembling either 
  humans or half-elves. They normally wear light armor 
  and carry gear according to their class. Such items are 
  unaffected by a owlmay’s shapeshifting, so they must 
  be hidden away. An owlmay may be recognized by her 
  feather token or feathered garment, which is transforms 
  into part of the owl’s plumage or can be worn on a leg. 
  I 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT THINGS 
  121 
  Combat 
  In human form, the owlmay fights as per her class. The 
  DM can roll 2d6 to determine the level/Hit Dice of an 
  owlmay (or simply choose it). She attacks with 
  whatever weapons or spells she possesses. 
  In either owl or giant owl form, an owlmay can 
  only be harmed by +1 or better weapons. She attacks 
  with buffeting wings, a flying leap, and a bite. 
  Owlmays are highly claustrophobic and must succeed 
  at a fear check whenever forced to enter a cave or other 
  obviously enclosed space. Houses and other buildings 
  with windows do not subject them to these checks. 
  Both their normal and giant owl forms fly in 
  complete silence, imposing a –6 penalty to surprise. 
  Due to their heightened senses, owlmays are surprised 
  only on a natural roll of 1 in 1d10. 
  The magical nature of the token used by the 
  owlmay and her own development in level grants the 
  creature 2% magic resistance per HD. This magic 
  resistance immediately drops to a flat 2% if the token is 
  ever stolen or destroyed. If the owlmay fails her magic 
  resistance roll and saving throw against a magical fire 
  attack, the token then must roll a separate save vs. 
  magical fire (as ivory/bone) to avoid destruction. 
  Habitat/Society 
  Owlmays are members of a very small sorority. 
  Commonly confused with lycanthropes, even by those 
  sages who have ever heard about them, the owlmays are 
  instead a group of females that have consciously 
  accepted the mission of protecting nature and the 
  wildlife at their own risk. They often battle evil 
  creatures that refuse to live in accordance with the 
  natural balance, and they hate undead above everything 
  else, as they see such monstrosities as wholly unnatural. 
  Owlmays will sometimes also attack human or 
  humanoid settlements if they perceive such 
  communities as threats to nature. For this reason, 
  owlmays are often misunderstood and the common folk 
  view them with mixed feelings. Their area of action is 
  very wide, covering several square miles. In Tepest 
  they are considered symbols of ill omen and highly 
  feared and despised, as they are seen as humans that 
  have willingly embraced the twisted ways of the wee 
  folk. In other forested domains, like Kartakass and 
  Verbrek, both werewolves and wolfweres dislike them 
  for intruding in their business. 
  Their special shapeshifting ability is gained 
  voluntarily through a pact with the forces of Nature, 
  symbolized by a special feather token or a feather 
  garment. Such items reveal their magical auras when 
  exposed to a detect magic spell. Without the item, she 
  not prevented from shapeshifting, and remains trapped 
  in her current form. Also, she is forced to remain within 
  an area (1-mile radius) around the item’s current 
  location. If someone is keeping the item, the owlmay 
  cannot directly attack that creature, and usually has to 
  bargain her freedom for services. If she’s trapped in owl 
  or giant owl form, the item’s current owner can 
  understand her as if a permanent speak with animals 
  had been cast. 
  If the token is destroyed, an owlmay will remain 
  trapped in her current form. Also, she will have to stay 
  within a 1-mile radius of the item’s last location and 
  will eventually be driven mad—a madness check is 
  required every month, with a cumulative –1 penalty 
  each month. The only possible salvation for the trapped 
  owlmay is if another owlmay of at least 2 levels higher 
  helps her to create a new token. Such tokens only 
  function for owlmays and the quests taken to replace 
  them are very difficult and demanding, especially if the 
  creature is already demented. 
  If an owlmay is considered mad beyond 
  redemption, she is hunted down by her former sisters. 
  After giving her a proper burial, they do their best to 
  hunt and kill the creature that took her special token and 
  her sanity. 
  Owlmays are even more secretive about their 
  sorority than swanmays. Only human or half-elven 
  females are admitted; the other requirements are 
  unknown. It is suspected that women are invited to join 
  when they unknowingly perform a great service for 
  another owlmay, like helping her recover a token. If a 
  PC is invited to join, it is 50% likely that she will be 
  asked to retire from casual adventuring to devote 
  herself full time to her new responsibilities. Whenever a 
  promising female is contacted, she is carefully tested 
  and, if successful, she is then admitted in the ranks of 
  the order, being fully informed of the responsibility and 
  dangers involved. After taking the vows the owlmay 
  cannot give up her mission under threat of death. 
  Owlmays are normally guided by their animal 
  personalities. They dislike noisy, brash creatures, rabid 
  beasts and all undead. They are shy and reclusive, and 
  avoid other forest folk, as most of these creatures are 
  tainted by the evil in the Land of Mists, but they will 
  not willingly attack such beings, as they are, after all, a 
  natural aspect of the Demiplane. Owlmays do not build 
  communities, preferring to live alone deep in the 
  wilderness. They do not control normal owls unless 
  using specific spells to do so. 
  Ecology 
  Owlmays are independent guardians of the forests and 
  wildlife. They actively oppose either monsters or 
  humans that threat to somehow decimate wildlife and 
  the countryside, protecting nature at any and all costs, 
  what may add to their bad reputation. Besides, they will 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT THINGS 
  122 
  always seek a way to destroy all undead in the vicinity, 
  as they view such creatures as an unnatural 
  abomination. They seem to either ignore resident and 
  wandering lycanthropes and natural shapeshifters or 
  tolerate them unless attacked first. 
  Although they are protectors of nature, owlmays 
  are carnivorous predators and scavengers themselves, 
  and must feed on at least five pounds of fresh meat (or 
  ten pounds of cooked or not-so-fresh meat) each day in 
  order to survive. An owlmay usually kills a small 
  animal that can supply her with about fifty pounds of 
  edible flesh, eating only five pounds the first day. She 
  then hides the corpse somewhere and can feed on it 
  again for two more days, each day eating ten pounds of 
  the nearly inedible meat. She knows the importance of 
  saving food supplies and rarely kills sentient beings. 
  Owlmay Characters 
  If the DM is willing to accept player character 
  owlmays, thn at character creation they are not treated 
  as normal humans or half-elves, but have instead the 
  following score adjustments: +1 bonus to Dexterity and 
  Wisdom (to a maximum of 18), –1 to Strength. They 
  can be rangers of up to 14th level, and upon permission 
  one owlmay in the party can be a caretaker, able to 
  progress until the Druid Circle (12th level). Class 
  requirements are standard and the optional rules for 
  advancing beyond level limits based on exceptionally 
  high scores may apply. 
  Note that if an owlmay is a caretaker of 7th level or 
  higher and becomes trapped in human form because she 
  loses her token, she does not lose her other 
  shapeshifting abilities, but cannot assume owl or giant 
  owl shape, much to her frustration. If trapped in animal 
  form, she cannot assume another animal shape, as she 
  would have to change into human form before 
  transforming again. 
  ! 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT THINGS 
  123 
  CHILDREN OF THE 
  NIGHTLESS LAND 
  New Monsters for Tsuu-Y-Teke 
  by Andrew Wyatt 
  wyatt@kargatane.com 
   
  Author’s Note: These monsters are designed for use in 
  the domain of Tsuu-Y-Teke (see page 96). Though they 
  are explicitly suited to that land, they might 
  conceivably be encountered elsewhere in the Land of 
  Mists, or even in the Brazil of Gothic Earth. Luiz 
  Eduardo Neves Peret, the creator of Tsuu-Y-Teke, 
  deserves special thanks for extending his permission 
  and guidance in the creation of these creatures. 
  Achunga 
  Medium-Size Humanoid 
  Hit Dice: 2d8+2 (11 hp) 
  Initiative: +2 (Dex) 
  Speed: 40 ft. 
  AC: 13 (+2 Dex, +1 natural) 
  Attacks: Stone age hand axe +0 melee; stone age 
  javelin +1 ranged; stone age shortbow +1 ranged 
  Damage: Stone age hand axe 1d6–1; stone age javelin 
  1d6–2; stone age shortbow 1d6–2 
  Face/Reach: 5 ft. by 5 ft./5 ft. 
  Special Qualities: Pyrophobia, darkvision 60 ft. 
  Saves: Fort +1, Ref +2, Will +3 
  Abilities: Str 12, Dex 15, Con 13, Int 16, Wis 10, Cha 
  13 
  Skills: Concentration +3, Hide +4, Move Silently +4, 
  Knowledge (arcana) +5, Spellcraft +5 
  Feats: Blind-Fight, Combat Casting, 
  Climate/Terrain: Warm desert, hills, mountains and 
  underground 
  Organization: Gang (2–5 plus 1 2nd-level petty chief), 
  band (11–20 plus 2 2nd-level petty chiefs and 1 
  chief of 2nd–5th level) or tribe (30–80 plus 100% 
  noncombatants plus 1 2nd-level petty chiefs per 5 
  adults, 4 5th-level chiefs, and 1 9th-level great 
  chief) 
  Challenge Rating: ½ 
  Treasure: Standard goods (gems only), double items 
  (no metal items) 
  Alignment: Usually lawful evil 
  Advancement: By character class 
  Achunga are an intelligent and evil race of 
  humanoids, known for their depravity and mastery of 
  magic. They are cold, chthonic creatures, harboring a 
  smoldering hatred for the Inan, who supposedly 
  usurped their dominance of Tsuu-Y-Teke when the land 
  was still a verdant rain forest. 
  Achunga dwell beneath the earth, though they 
  despise this subterranean existence. They emerge at 
  night to gather food and spread suffering among the 
  Inan. They enjoy tempting surface-dwellers with arcane 
  magical power, offering spells and magical items to 
  wizards in return for their loyalty. 
  Achunga resemble lanky, athletic humanoids with 
  stone-gray skin. Though their faces are nearly human, 
  their eyes are a curious slate blue and their noses are 
  mere skeletal, ragged pits. Their long, stringy black hair 
  hangs below their waists. The creatures’ hands are 
  tipped with cracked and yellowed nails. 
  Achunga speak their own language as well as Inan. 
  Combat 
  Achunga are a generally cautious race, but their hatred 
  of humans leads them to attack fiercely when presented 
  with a relatively safe opportunity, such as a lone 
  traveler. They plan careful and elaborate ambushes, 
  backing up their warriors with magical power. 
  Pyrophobia (Ex): Achunga are terrified of fire. 
  They never use spells with the Fire descriptor. When 
  confronted with open flame equal or greater than a 
  torch, achunga must make a Will save (DC 15) or be 
  frightened for 1d10 minutes. 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT THINGS 
  124 
  Achunga Society 
  The achunga are a prime example of a degenerate race. 
  Though they once boasted a true civilization, more 
  advanced than that of the Inan, they have since 
  descended into bitter savagery. Achunga society is 
  strongly hierarchical, and built on a complex system of 
  taboos. However, their race values little but perversity, 
  magical knowledge and an eventual reclamation of the 
  surface world. Achunga have their own terrifying gods, 
  but refuse to formally venerate them or even speak their 
  blasphemous names. 
  Achunga Characters 
  An achunga’s favored class is wizard. Most achunga 
  leaders are wizards, fighters, clerics, or (frequently) 
  some multiclass combination of the three. Achunga 
  clerics are devoted to evil rather than any specific god, 
  and can choose any two of the following domains: Evil, 
  Knowledge, Law, Magic. 
  Anhanga 
  Medium-Size Shapechanger (Incorporeal) 
  Hit Dice: 5d8 (22 hp) 
  Initiative: +5 (Dex) 
  Speed: Fly 60 ft. (good) 
  AC: 18 (+5 Dex, +3 deflection) 
  Attacks: – (+3 base) 
  Damage: – 
  Face/Reach: 5 ft. by 5 ft./5 ft. 
  Special Attacks: Nightmare aura, spells, spell-like 
  abilities 
  Special Qualities: Incorporeal, one thousand forms, 
  indistinct, darkvision 60 ft. 
  Saves: Fort +4 (+4 base), Ref +9 (+4 base), Will +7 (+4 
  base) 
  Abilities: Str —, Dex 20, Con 11, Int 10, Wis 16, Cha 
  17 
  Skills: Hide +14, Listen +8, Knowledge (nature) +4, 
  Spot +8, Wilderness Lore +8 
  Climate/Terrain: Warm deserts, hills and mountains 
  Organization: Solitary 
  Challenge Rating: 4 
  Treasure: None 
  Alignment: Always chaotic evil 
  Advancement Range: 6–8 HD (Medium), 9–15 HD 
  (Large) 
  The anhanga is a malicious, shapeshifting creature 
  that haunts the wilds of Tsuu-Y-Teke, victimizing 
  hunters, travelers or any humanoids that it happens to 
  encounter. The creature usually attempts to drive its 
  victims to panic and madness before finally destroying 
  them. Though the Inan believe the anhanga to be the 
  protectors of wildlife, the pure sadistic glee that these 
  creatures exhibit when on the hunt reveals their evil 
  nature. 
  In their natural form, anhanga resemble heat 
  mirages. They are only visible as roughly humanoid-
  shaped distortions in the air. Anhanga rarely assume 
  this form, however, unless they need to flee quickly or 
  are severely threatened. They can shapechange into any 
  natural animal native to Tsuu-Y-Teke. This includes a 
  host of familiar creatures such as the mountain lion, 
  wildcat, skunk, weasel, bat, fox, wolf, vulture, game 
  fowl, snake and tortoise. It also includes many animals 
  unusual to the eyes of folk from beyond Tsuu-Y-Teke: 
  the jaguarundi, peccary, tapir, armadillo, anteater, 
  agouti and rhea. 
  Anhanga cannot speak. 
  Combat 
  An anhanga has no natural attacks in its normal form. It 
  prefers to use its spells and spell-like abilities to 
  confuse and weaken its opponents before shifting to a 
  powerful animal form (such as mountain lion or wolf) 
  to pick them off one at a time. 
  Nightmare Aura (Su): The mere presence of an 
  anhanga causes terrifying nightmares, wherein the 
  victim is being chased through the wilderness by 
  shadowy predators. Any sleeping creature within 60 
  feet of an anhanga must make a Will save (DC 13) or 
  suffer the effects of a nightmare spell. A creature is 
  required to make only one saving throw per night, but 
  the anhanga need only come within 60 feet of the 
  creature for a single round to use its aura, and does not 
  need to remain for the nightmare to take effect. Unlike 
  the nightmare spell, the casting of dispel evil on the 
  victim will not stun the anhanga. This is a mind-
  affecting ability. 
  Spells: An anhanga can cast druid spells as arcane 
  spells, as if it were a 12th-level sorcerer. The save DC, 
  where applicable, is 13 + spell level. 
  Spell-Like Abilities: At will—ghost sound, silent 
  image, ventriloquism. These abilities are as the spells 
  cast by a 12th-level sorcerer. The save DC, where 
  applicable, is 13 + spell level. 
  Incorporeal: In its natural form, an anhanga can 
  be harmed only by other incorporeal creatures, +1 or 
  better magic weapons, or magic, with a 50% chance to 
  ignore any damage from a corporeal source. The 
  creature can pass through solid objects at will and 
  always moves silently. 
  One Thousand Forms (Su): An anhanga can shift 
  into the form of any animal native to Tsuu-Y-Teke as 
  though using the polymorph self spell. Changing to or 
  from any animal form or the anhanga’s natural form 
  requires a standard action. Appropriate animals (or 
  roughly equivalent animals) from Appendix 1 of the 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT THINGS 
  125 
  Monster Manual are: bat, cat, eagle, hawk, leopard, 
  lizard, owl, rat, raven, viper snake (tiny, small or 
  medium), toad, weasel, or wolf. 
  Indistinct (Ex): The anhanga’s hazy outline gives 
  the creature one-half-concealment (20% miss chance) 
  in its natural form. This ability cannot be counteracted 
  with see invisibility or true seeing. 
  Skills: Anhanga in their natural form receive a +4 
  bonus to all Hide skill checks due to their semi-
  transparent appearance. 
  Caypór 
  Small Fey (Fire) 
  Hit Dice: 3d6+3 (13 hp) 
  Initiative: +3 (Dex) 
  Speed: 30 ft., climb 15 ft. 
  AC: 15 (+3 Dex, +1 size, +1 natural) 
  Attacks: Bite +5 melee, 2 claws +3 melee 
  Damage: Bite 1d4–2, claws 1d3–2 
  Face/Reach: 5 ft. by 5 ft./5 ft. 
  Special Attacks: Fear gaze 
  Special Qualities: Fire subtype, low-light vision 
  Saves: Fort +2, Ref +6, Will +5 
  Abilities: Str 6, Dex 17, Con 12, Int 11, Wis 15, Cha 14 
  Skills: Animal Empathy +7, Climb +6, Hide +15, 
  Knowledge (nature) +5, Listen +7, Move Silently 
  +11, Spot +7, Wilderness Lore +8 
  Feats: Dodge, Multiattack, Weapon Finesse (bite, 
  claw) 
  Climate/Terrain: Warm deserts, hills and mountains 
  Organization: Gang (2–4), band (6–11 plus 1 2nd-
  level petty chief), or tribe (20–80 plus 6 2nd-level 
  petty chiefs, 2 5th-level chiefs and 1 8th-level great 
  chief) 
  Challenge Rating: 1 
  Treasure: Standard goods (gems only), standard items 
  (no metal items) 
  Alignment: Usually neutral evil 
  Advancement Range: By character class 
  The caypór are curious goblinfolk that dwell in the 
  most remote regions of Tsuu-Y-Teke, waylaying any 
  who venture near their territory. They are infamous for 
  their hideous appearance and cruelty. 
  Caypór are the ever-present bogeymen of Tsuu-Y-
  Teke, greatly feared by the Inan. The caypór were 
  likely jungle fey at one time, but they have since 
  adapted to the cracked and barren wasteland that 
  dominates the domain today. Though they still get 
  along well with natural animals, their temperament has 
  become much more savage, bordering on the depraved. 
  Allegedly, a favorite pastime of the caypór is to kidnap 
  an Inan and subject him or her to the most painful and 
  disfiguring torture imaginable, only to release the 
  wretch back to his village. 
  Caypór stand just under three feet in height, and 
  are generally humanoid in appearance. Their build is 
  wiry, and the digits on hands and feet are overly long 
  and tipped with fleshy pads. The overall impression is 
  that of an early primate, such as a tarsier. Caypór skin is 
  smooth and waxen, a bright crimson in color. Their 
  faces are so grotesque as to be nearly indescribable; a 
  mishmash of scar tissue, bony protrusions and mucous 
  membranes. Their mouths are wide and filled with two 
  rows of hooklike teeth. Their catlike eyes are always an 
  inhuman color, such as bile yellow or deep orange. 
  Caypór have rod-straight, jet black hair, kept short and 
  even. They rarely wear clothing, but favor elaborate and 
  gruesome body piercings. 
  Caypór speak Sylvan. 
  Combat 
  Caypór are expert guerilla fighters, using their 
  knowledge of Tsuu-Y-Teke’s wastes to maximum 
  advantage. They gain surprise, cut down their prey’s 
  numbers with their fear gaze, and then descend on 
  whoever remains. 
  Fear Gaze (Su): Panicked for 2d6 rounds, 30 feet, 
  Will save (DC 15) 
  Fire Subtype (Ex): Fire immunity, double damage 
  from cold except on a successful save. A favorite tactic 
  of caypór is to smear their bodies with oil and light 
  themselves aflame before battle. Opponents take 1d3 
  points of fire damage per round of contact if the 
  burning caypór can grapple the opponent successfully. 
  Skills: Caypór receive a +2 racial bonus to all Hide 
  and Move Silently skill checks. 
  Caypór Characters 
  A caypór’s favored class is druid. Most caypór leaders 
  are druids or rangers, though warriors, adepts, and even 
  rogues are not unheard of. Caypór with player character 
  classes use their natural weapons in combat, but also 
  favor tiny sickles and small javelins. 
  Curupira 
  Medium-Size Shapeshifter 
  Hit Dice: 6d8+24 (51 hp) 
  Initiative: –4 (Dex) 
  Speed: 5 ft. 
  AC: 14 (–4 Dex, +8 natural) 
  Attacks: Bite +7 melee (+4 base) 
  Damage: Bite 1d6+3 
  Face/Reach: 5 ft. by 5 ft./5 ft. 
  Special Attacks: Croak 
  Special Qualities: Masquerade, darkvision 60 ft. 
  Saves: Fort +9 (+5 base), Ref +1 (+5 base), Will +8 (+5 
  base) 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT THINGS 
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  Abilities: Str 16, Dex 3, Con 18, Int 14, Wis 13, Cha 19 
  Skills: Animal Empathy +13, Bluff +14, Intimidate +8, 
  Knowledge (nature) +7, Listen +5, Spot +5, 
  Wilderness Lore +5 
  Feats: Endurance, Iron Will 
  Climate/Terrain: Warm deserts 
  Organization: Solitary, pair, or clan (5–8 plus 1 2nd–
  5th level leader) 
  Challenge Rating: 5 
  Treasure: Standard goods (gems only), standard items 
  (no metal items) 
  Alignment: Usually neutral evil 
  Advancement Range: By character class 
  A stranger creature than the curupira would be 
  difficult to imagine. Best described as intelligent, 
  shapeshifting giant tortoises, their odd appearance gives 
  no indication of the cruel intelligence beneath. Setting 
  themselves up as wise reptile gods, the curupira move 
  unseen among the Inan, spreading a brutal agenda. 
  Curupira are conceited and deceptive creatures, 
  obsessed with proselytizing an evil druidic message that 
  venerates competition, survival, and the inevitable 
  destruction of the Inan. To this end, they infiltrate the 
  pueblos of Tsuu-Y-Teke and create blasphemous 
  reptilian cults, with themselves as gods. They play the 
  part of the ancient tortoise-spirit dispensing cosmic 
  knowledge, all the while masterminding disasters on the 
  heads of the locals. 
  In their natural forms, curupira appear to be normal 
  giant tortoises. They move a bit faster than mundane 
  tortoises and often have patterns of muted color on their 
  shells that seem to suggest some disturbing shape. 
  Curupira can shift from this form to resemble any kind 
  of human they desire. Though they cannot imitate 
  particular individuals, they can easily pass for any 
  ethnic group or general physical description. 
  Curupira speak Druidic, Inan, and occasionally 
  Draconic. 
  Combat 
  Curupira dislike combat, preferring to direct their 
  minions to do their fighting for them. They do not flee 
  the scene of a battle unless things go particularly bad, 
  however, preferring to use their spells (if any) to 
  weaken opponents and then use their loyal cultists or 
  summoned animals to attack. 
  Croak (Su): Three times a day, a curupira in its 
  natural form may let loose an eerie whooping croak as a 
  standard action. This affects all within 60 feet as the 
  spell confusion, as if cast by a 9th-level sorcerer. The 
  save DC is 14. This is a sonic, mind-affecting ability. 
  Masquerade (Su): A curupira can shift into the 
  form of a normal human of any generalized physical 
  description as though using the polymorph self spell. 
  The curupira may not, however, imitate a specific 
  person. Changing to or from any form requires a 
  standard action. In any human form, the curupira’s 
  Strength, Dexterity, and Constitution scores are all 11, 
  its base AC is 10, and its speed is 30 feet. 
  Skills: Curupira receive a +4 racial bonus to all 
  Animal Empathy and Bluff skill checks. 
  Curupira Characters 
  A curupira’s favored class is druid. Curupira leaders are 
  always druids, though some curupira become adepts. 
  Jaracacas 
  Medium-Size Magical Beast 
  Hit Dice: 3d10+3 (19 hp) 
  Initiative: +3 (Dex) 
  Speed: 40 ft., climb 30 ft., swim 30 ft. 
  AC: 16 (+3 Dex, +3 natural) 
  Attacks: Bite +6 melee 
  Damage: Bite 1d4–1 and poison 
  Face/Reach: 5 ft. by 5 ft. (coiled)/5 ft. 
  Special Attacks: Poison, gaze 
  Special Qualities: Darkvision 60 ft., low-light vision 
  Saves: Fort +3, Ref +3, Will +1 
  Abilities: Str 8, Dex 17, Con 12, Int 6, Wis 14, Cha 8 
  Skills: Balance +11, Climb +6, Hide +10, Listen +9, 
  Move Silently +6, Spot +8 
  Feats: Weapon Finesse (bite) 
  Climate/Terrain: Warm deserts and underground 
  Organization: Solitary, cluster (2–5) or nest (10–30) 
  Challenge Rating: 2 
  Treasure: None 
  Alignment: Always Chaotic evil 
  Advancement Range: 4–7 (Large), 8–9 (Huge) 
  Jaracacas are exceedingly dangerous magical 
  snakes, possessing a gaze that can wither flesh with a 
  glance. They live wild throughout Tsuu-Y-Teke’s most 
  arid regions, but are often kept as companions by 
  monstrous wizards and vulture cultists. 
  Though undoubtedly the product of magical 
  experimentation, jaracacas have been slithering through 
  the deserts of Tsuu-Y-Teke as long as the Inan can 
  remember. Most Inan wisely avoid these dangerous 
  creatures, but a few brave (or foolish) individuals 
  attempt to collect their eggs in order to raise deadly 
  guardians. Though they can become friendly towards a 
  master that provides them with ample food, jaracacas 
  can be as fickle as any cat, and much more dangerous 
  when irritated. 
  A jaracacas resembles a normal viper roughly five 
  feet in length. The snake can be recognized from its 
  mundane kin by its peculiar skin. The jaracacas’ scales 
  are nearly crystalline, appearing as squarish white 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT THINGS 
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  granules rather like salt. A pattern of ochre-yellow 
  circles runs down the length of the snake’s back. A 
  jaracacas lair is also readily identifiable by the 
  desiccated corpses that inevitably surround it. 
  Jaracacas cannot speak, though those that are 
  raised in the company of humans learn to understand 
  rudimentary Inan. 
  Combat 
  Jaracacas use their gaze to bring their opponents to the 
  point of unconsciousness, then move in to slay the 
  helpless victims with their venom. A whole nest of such 
  creatures can bring a terrifying amount of raw 
  destructive power to bear with their gazes. Despite their 
  magical abilities, jaracacas retain some of their snake 
  skittishness, and tend to flee if they encounter 
  something new and startling (such as a powerful spell 
  they have never witnessed before). 
  Poison (Ex): Bite, Fortitude Save (DC 14); initial 
  damage 1d4 temporary Dexterity, secondary damage 
  1d6 temporary Dexterity. 
  Withering Gaze (Su): 2d4 points of damage and 
  nauseated for 1d4 rounds, 30 feet, Fortitude save (DC 
  15). Cannot affect constructs or undead. 
  Skills: Jaracacas receive a +4 racial bonus to all 
  Hide, Listen and Spot skill checks and a +8 racial bonus 
  to all Balance skill checks. 
  Lobishomen 
  Medium-Size Undead (Incorporeal, Fire) 
  Hit Dice: 8d12 (52 hp) 
  Initiative: +6 (+2 Dex, +4 Improved Initiative) 
  Speed: Fly 40 ft. (perfect) 
  AC: 20 (+2 Dex, +8 deflection) 
  Attacks: Incorporeal touch +6 melee 
  Damage: Incorporeal touch 1d6 fire damage and heat 
  exhaustion 
  Face/Reach: 5 ft. by 5 ft./5 ft. 
  Special Attacks: Heat exhaustion, blood drain, 
  madness 
  Special Qualities: Undead, incorporeal, invisible, fire 
  subtype, +4 turn resistance 
  Saves: Fort +2, Ref +4, Will +9 
  Abilities: Str –, Dex 15, Con –, Int 6, Wis 17, Cha 19 
  Skills: Hide +13, Intimidate +14, Spot +14 
  Feats: Flyby Attack, Improved Initiative 
  Climate/Terrain: Warm deserts, hills and mountains 
  Organization: Solitary 
  Challenge Rating: 7 
  Treasure: None 
  Alignment: Always chaotic evil 
  Advancement Range: 9–11 (Medium), 12–18 HD 
  (Large), 19–24 (Huge) 
  With the exception of the Kuni-Bina, no creature is 
  as feared in Tsuu-Y-Teke as the lobishomen. A bizarre 
  and powerful undead predator, the lobishomen spreads 
  madness as it searches for living blood. 
  The origin of this unholy creature is not known, 
  though some Inan speculate poetically that the 
  lobishomen is the spirit of a male warrior who died 
  without finding a wife to share his house. The truth is 
  likely far grimmer, as the lobishomen seems to take a 
  particular interest in the blood of young women. 
  Regardless, the victims of a lobishomen’s feedings are 
  inevitably driven mad, becoming obsessed with what 
  they only remember as an intensely pleasurable dream. 
  Lobishomen are invisible, save when they attack. 
  At such times, a frightening creature seemingly 
  unravels out of the air into view. The lobishomen 
  resembles an unclothed human corpse, covered from 
  head to toe in a horrible sunburn. Creased, hairless flesh 
  oozes watery pus. Skin peels and flakes off in ragged, 
  yellowed sheets. The maw of broken fangs is all most 
  victims remember of the creature, however. 
  Combat 
  A lobishomen only drains blood from helpless—usually 
  sleeping—victims, preferring to use is burning touch on 
  those opponents foolish enough to confront it in battle. 
  Though confident and cunning, a lobishomen is not 
  stupid, and is more than willing to back off from a 
  battle that is going poorly for it. 
  Heat Exhaustion (Su): Opponents struck by a 
  lobishomen’s incorporeal touch attack must make a 
  Fortitude save (DC 15) or take 1d4 subdual damage, 
  just as if they were in conditions of extreme heat (see 
  pg. 86 of the Dungeon Master’s Guide). Opponents in 
  heavy clothing or armor have a –4 penalty to this save 
  as normal. An opponent who has taken any subdual 
  damage from the lobishomen’s touch is fatigued. The 
  fatigued condition ends when the opponent recovers the 
  subdual damage. 
  Blood Drain (Su): A lobishomen can permanently 
  drain 1d4 points of Constitution per round from a 
  helpless victim as a full-round action. 
  Madness (Ex): Victims of a lobishomen’s blood 
  drain must make a Will save (DC 15) or be permanently 
  affected as if by confusion. Alternatively, the victim 
  becomes Obsessed with the experience (as the failed 
  Horror Check result). 
  Undead: Immune to mind-influencing effects, 
  poison, sleep, paralysis, stunning and disease. Not 
  subject to critical hits, subdual damage, ability damage, 
  energy drain, or death from massive damage. 
  Incorporeal: Can be harmed only by other 
  incorporeal creatures, +1 or better magic weapons, or 
  magic, with a 50% chance to ignore any damage from a 
  corporeal source. Can pass through solid objects at will 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT THINGS 
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  and its own attacks pass through armor. Always moves 
  silently. 
  Invisible (Ex): A lobishomen is continuously 
  invisible unless attacking. 
  Fire Subtype (Ex): Fire immunity, double damage 
  from cold except on a successful save. 
  Macachera 
  Medium-Size Fey 
  Hit Dice: 3d6 (10 hp) 
  Initiative: +6 (+2 Dex, +4 Improved Initiative) 
  Speed: 30 ft. 
  AC: 16 (+2 Dex, +4 deflection) 
  Attacks: Stone age hand axe –1 melee; stone age short 
  bow +1 ranged 
  Damage: Stone age hand axe 1d6–2; stone age short 
  bow 1d6–2 
  Face/Reach: 5 ft. by 5 ft./5 ft. 
  Special Attacks: Spell-like abilities 
  Special Qualities: SR 17, low-light vision 
  Saves: Fort +1, Ref +5, Will +6 
  Abilities: Str 11, Dex 15, Con 10, Int 14, Wis 16, Cha 
  18 
  Skills: Bluff +14, Concentration +5, Heal +9, Hide +7, 
  Intimidate +9, Knowledge (any one) +7, Listen +8, 
  Move Silently +7, Spot +8 
  Feats: Dodge, Improved Initiative 
  Climate/Terrain: Warm deserts, hills and mountains 
  Organization: Solitary 
  Challenge Rating: 1 
  Treasure: None 
  Alignment: Always neutral evil 
  Advancement Range: 4–9 (Medium) 
  The macachera is an enigmatic creature. 
  Resembling a normal human in almost every way, it is 
  difficult in the extreme to detect. Though it seems 
  friendly and helpful, it is in fact a malicious spirit of 
  disease and misfortune. 
  Macachera are perhaps most infamous for their 
  habit of preying on groups of travelers deep in the 
  wilderness, particularly hunting parties. They do no 
  discriminate, however, and though they prefer the more 
  remote regions of Tsuu-Y-Teke, they often infiltrate 
  pueblos in their quest to sow discord and misery. Very 
  rarely, they may be found in the service of an evil cleric 
  or wizard for a time, though what precisely the 
  macachera gets out of the relationship is unknown. 
  The mind of a macachera is an alien thing. They 
  seems to take glee in the very act of deception, and they 
  make efforts to conceal their true nature as long as 
  possible while inflicting their “companions” with curses 
  and disease. Few Inan care to dwell on what the 
  macachera’s motivation might be, or what might have 
  spawned such a creature. One legend, however, tells of 
  a powerful and black-hearted wizard, who long ago 
  enslaved the macachera in an effort to destroy his 
  enemies. The macachera, however, could not cease 
  their evil activities once they had begun, and have since 
  been twisted into elemental spirits of corruption. 
  Macachera speak Inan and Sylvan. 
  Combat 
  Macachera avoid combat if at all possible. They prefer 
  to utilize their spell-like abilities to terrorize their 
  victims in a clandestine fashion, all the while behaving 
  in a helpful manner themselves. If confronted or 
  attacked, most macachera will simply use their 
  invisibility to vanish and flee. 
  Spell-Like Abilities: At will–doom, invisibility, 
  suggestion; 3/day—bestow curse, contagion, emotion. 
  These abilities are as the spells cast by a 12th level 
  sorcerer. The save DC, where applicable, is 14 + spell 
  level. None of these abilities have any sensory 
  signatures. 
  Skills: A macachera receives a +4 racial bonus to 
  all Bluff skill checks. 
  Marét 
  Medium-Size Fey (Air) 
  Hit Dice: 4d6 
  Initiative: +8 (+4 Dex, +4 Improved Initiative) 
  Speed: Fly 50 ft. 
  AC: 18 (+4 Dex, +4 natural) 
  Attacks: Slam +2 melee 
  Damage: Slam 1d6 
  Face/Reach: 5 ft. by 5 ft./5 ft. 
  Special Attacks: Spell-like abilities 
  Special Qualities: Avian forms, damage reduction 
  15/+1, low-light vision 
  Saves: Fort +2, Ref +8, Will +5 
  Abilities: Str 11, Dex 19, Con 12, Int 16, Wis 13, Cha 
  17 
  Skills: Concentration +8, Hide +11, Intuit Direction +8, 
  Knowledge (history) +10, Listen +8, Move 
  Silently +11, Spot +8 
  Feats: Dodge, Flyby Attack, Improved Initiative, 
  Mobility 
  Climate/Terrain: Warm deserts, hills, and mountains 
  Organization: Solitary 
  Challenge Rating: 1 
  Treasure: None 
  Alignment: Always chaotic evil 
  Advancement Range: 5–6 (Medium), 7–13 (Large), 
  14–16 (Huge) 
  The marét are curious fey associated with 
  particular bloodlines among the Inan. Once, they were 
  regarded as the protectors and advisors of whole 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT THINGS 
  129 
  families. Like most fey in Tsuu-Y-Teke, however, they 
  have long become corrupted by the parching of the 
  land. Now, they “protect” their chosen bloodline with 
  acts of murder and destruction. 
  Marét are dangerous and twitchy creatures, who 
  grow restless when they are not spreading chaos. 
  Unfortunately, the families that host them are no longer 
  able to parley with these creatures. The marét fixate on 
  imagined slights and misunderstandings, and respond 
  with campaigns of terror—with little regard for who 
  gets in their way. As a result, most of the bloodlines 
  which still host marét have long since fallen into shame 
  and poverty. And yet the marét continue, oblivious and 
  unstoppable. 
  Spirits of the sun and sky, the marét traditionally 
  appear as mundane birds native to Tsuu-Y-Teke. Their 
  natural form, however, is a human-sized whirlwind of 
  air and dust. When attacking in their natural form, 
  marét utter a choking laughter that sounds chillingly 
  close to a death rattle. 
  Marét speak Inan and Sylvan. 
  Combat 
  Marét only initiate combat against those that they see as 
  a threat to “their” families. They will defend themselves 
  if attacked, however. Their typical strategy is to unleash 
  their sunburst or whirlwind power, then shift into their 
  natural form and begin buffeting their foes mercilessly. 
  Spell-Like Abilities: 3/day–control winds, searing 
  light, wind wall; 1/day–sunburst, whirlwind. These 
  abilities are as the spells cast by a 14th-level sorcerer. 
  The save DC, where applicable, is 13 + spell level. 
  Avian Forms (Su): A marét can shift into the form 
  of any flying bird native to Tsuu-Y-Teke as though 
  using the polymorph self spell. Changing to or from any 
  animal form or the marét’s natural form requires a 
  standard action. Appropriate birds (or roughly 
  equivalent animals) from Appendix 1 of the Monster 
  Manual are eagle, hawk, owl and raven. 
  Saci 
  Tiny Fey 
  Hit Dice: 1d6+2 (5 hp) 
  Initiative: +8 (+5 Dex, +4 Improved Initiative) 
  Speed: 15 ft. 
  AC: 17 (+5 Dex, +2 size) 
  Attacks: Diminutive short sword +7 melee; tiny javelin 
  +2 ranged 
  Damage: Diminutive short sword 1d3–2 and poison; 
  tiny javelin 1d3–2 and poison 
  Face/Reach: 2 1/2 ft. by 2 1/2 ft./0 ft. 
  Special Attacks: Poisoned weapons 
  Special Qualities: Aura of putrefaction, spell-like 
  abilities, low-light vision 
  Saves: Fort +2, Ref +7, Will +4 
  Abilities: Str 6, Dex 20, Con 15, Int 10, Wis 15, Cha 13 
  Skills: Bluff +4, Climb +1, Hide +21, Jump +5, Listen 
  +5, Move Silently +9, Pick Pocket +9, Spot +5, 
  Tumble +12 
  Feats: Dodge, Improved Initiative, Mobility, Weapon 
  Finesse (short sword) 
  Climate/Terrain: Warm deserts, hills and mountains 
  Organization: Solitary, gang (2–5) or clan (9–20 plus 
  50% noncombatants plus one 3rd level leader) 
  Challenge Rating: 1/2 
  Treasure: Standard goods (gems only), standard items 
  (no metal items) 
  Alignment: Usually chaotic evil 
  Advancement Range: By character class 
  Saci are evil goblinfolk that dwell in the pueblos of 
  the Inan, living off stolen food. Lazy and wicked, they 
  delight in sabotaging the hard work of the Inan out of 
  sheer spite. 
  Saci riddle the walls of pueblos with tiny tunnels, 
  allowing them to move throughout a village without 
  being seen. Though ostensibly tribal, saci are led more 
  by mob instinct than any formal society. They take little 
  interest in anything but their own satisfaction. Often, 
  however, this means disrupting the lives of the Inan in 
  the most petty and spiteful ways imaginable. They steal 
  and spoil food, kill livestock, foul drinking water, 
  destroy pottery and stonework, cause accidents, disrupt 
  rituals and holidays, and sometimes outright murder for 
  the fun of it. It is rare, but not unheard of, for an Inan to 
  vanish from his own home in the middle of the night; 
  such events testify to the saci’s love of human flesh. 
  Saci appear as miniature, exaggerated humanoids. 
  Standing about one and a half feet tall, they have large 
  hands, flat heads, and grotesque, distended stomachs. 
  Their skin varies in color, but is usually some awful 
  shade of greenish-gray. Their scowling mouths are 
  filled with flat, grinding teeth. They have scarlet hair, 
  which is always horribly matted and caked with filth 
  and insects. They wear nothing but breechcloths, but 
  always carry diminutive flint short swords and pipes 
  which they use to smoke dried manure. 
  Saci speak Inan and Sylvan. 
  Combat 
  Saci use their numbers, size, and agility to maximum 
  advantage in battle. They are surprisingly athletic, 
  jumping and tumbling with remarkable skill during 
  combat. They use hit-and-run tactics to poison their 
  opponents, and then move in to finish them off. 
  Poisoned Weapons (Ex): Weapons, Fortitude 
  Save (DC 18); initial damage 1d6 temporary Strength, 
  secondary damage 2d6 temporary Strength. 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT THINGS 
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  Aura of Putrefaction (Su): Saci have the insidious 
  trait of tainting any food or stored water (i.e. in some 
  kind of container) they come within 10 feet of. The 
  food or water becomes diseased: Fortitude Save (DC 
  14), incubation 1 day, damage 1d4 temporary 
  Constitution. This ability cannot be turned off. The saci 
  themselves may consume such spoiled fare without ill 
  effect. 
  Spell-Like Abilities: At will–ghost sound and 
  prestidigitation. This is as the spell cast by a 5th level 
  sorcerer. The save DC, where applicable, is 11 + spell 
  level. 
  Skills: Saci receive a +4 racial bonus to all Hide, 
  Jump, and Tumble skill checks. 
  Saci Characters 
  A saci’s favored class is rogue. Saci leaders tend to be 
  rogues or rogue/sorcerers. 
  Tupan 
  Medium-Size Fey (Air) 
  Hit Dice: 7d6+21 (45 hp) 
  Initiative: +6 (+6 Dex) 
  Speed: Fly 90 ft (good). 
  AC: 20 (+6 Dex, +4 natural) 
  Attacks: Lightning bolt +9 ranged (+3 base) 
  Damage: Lightning bolt 3d6 
  Face/Reach: 5 ft. by 5 ft./5 ft. 
  Special Attacks: Lightning bolt 
  Special Qualities: Masquerade, damage reduction 
  15/+1, low-light vision 
  Saves: Fort +5 (+2 base), Ref +11 (+5 base), Will +6 
  (+5 base) 
  Abilities: Str 16, Dex 22, Con 17, Int 10, Wis 12, Cha 
  13 
  Skills: Bluff +11, Hide +11, Intimidate +6, Intuit 
  Direction +6, Listen +6, Move Silently +11, Spot 
  +6, Wilderness Lore +6 
  Feats: Combat Reflexes, Dodge, Flyby Attack, 
  Mobility 
  Climate/Terrain: Warm mountains 
  Organization: Solitary or pack (3–8) 
  Challenge Rating: 5 
  Treasure: None 
  Alignment: Always chaotic evil 
  Advancement Range: 8–10 HD (Medium), 11–18 
  (Large) 
  Tupan are powerful and deadly thunderstorm 
  spirits that have long since been driven into insanity. 
  They lurk on the highest mesas of Tsuu-Y-Teke, 
  darting about in a frenzy of electrical destruction. 
  Occasionally, they come down from their mountains in 
  human form, seeking to spread mayhem. 
  The tupan were once the beneficent rain sprites of 
  Tsuu-Y-Teke, gentle in nature and harboring a special 
  love for humanity. No one is certain why they became 
  malicious and hateful, though the suspicion is that like 
  most fey, they were affected by the domain’s 
  transformation from forest to wasteland. Though they 
  normally stick to the mesas, for some unfathomable 
  reason the tupan sometimes become more focused in 
  their madness. At such time, they journey to pueblos 
  disguised as Inan and go on murderous rampages. 
  In their natural form, tupan appear to be tiny, dark 
  gray thunderclouds, roughly the size of an adult human. 
  Their form crackles with purplish electricity, which 
  sometimes seems to suggest a screaming face, gripped 
  by agony. 
  Tupan speak Inan and Sylvan. 
  Combat 
  Few creatures in Tsuu-Y-Teke can match the tupan for 
  sheer destructiveness. In combat, they become frenzied, 
  darting about seemingly at random and unleashing their 
  deadly lightning strokes. Only rarely will a tupan break 
  off its attack once it is embroiled in battle. Very severe 
  injury and being vastly outnumbered are the only 
  deterrents to these savage creatures. 
  Lightning Bolt (Su): A tupan’s natural attack, 
  usable only in its normal form, is a lightning bolt with a 
  range of 100 feet. This is a electrical ranged touch 
  attack (ray). 
  Masquerade (Su): A tupan can shift into the form 
  of a normal human of any generalized physical 
  description as though using the polymorph self spell. 
  The tupan may not, however, imitate a specific person. 
  Changing to or from any form requires a standard 
  action. In any human form, the tupan’s Strength, 
  Dexterity, and Constitution scores are all 11, its base 
  AC is 10, and its speed is 30 feet. 
  Skills: Tupan receive a +4 racial bonus to all Bluff 
  skill checks. 
  Templates 
  Lycanthrope, Werejaguarundi 
  The werejaguarundi template is identical in all respects 
  to other lycanthrope templates as described on pages 
  217–221 of the Monster Manual, except where noted 
  below. 
  Animal Form: Jaguarundi (see below) 
  Ability Score Adjustments: Dex +6, Con +2 
  Feats: Blind-Fight, Multiattack, Weapon Finesse 
  (bite, claw) 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT THINGS 
  131 
  Werejaguardi 
  A werejaguarundi in humanoid form tends to be feral in 
  appearance, with dashing good looks and a predatory 
  gleam in its eye. Telltale features in the humanoid form 
  include unusual birthmarks, hair in strange places on 
  the body (especially the ears), and stiff nodules on the 
  palms of the hands and soles of the feet. 
  Combat 
  Werejaguarundis can assume a hybrid form as well as 
  an animal form. They prefer to use stalking tactics in 
  combat. It their opponents cannot be killed quickly 
  once the werejaguarundis pounce, the lycanthropes will 
  retreat and make another attempt at a later time. 
  Alternate Form (Su): A werejaguarundi can 
  assume a bipedal hybrid form or the form of a 
  jaguarundi. The bipedal form is Medium-size, and a 
  breathtaking mixture of human and feline traits. The 
  creature has clawed hands and feet, which are more like 
  paws that human extremities. The werejaguarundi’s 
  head is basically feline, though its eyes are very human 
  and its mouth is more expressive than that of a normal 
  cat. The animal form is that of a normal jaguarundi 
  without any human features. 
  Pounce (Ex): If a jaguarundi in hybrid or 
  jaguarundi form leaps upon a foe during the first round 
  of combat, it can make a full attack even if it has 
  already taken a move action. 
  Improved Grab (Ex): To use this ability, the 
  werejaguarundi in hybrid or jaguarundi form must hit 
  with its bite attack. If it gets a hold, it can rake with its 
  bite attack. If it gets a hold, it can rake. 
  Rake (Ex): A werejaguarundi in hybrid or 
  jaguarundi form that gets a hold can make two rake 
  attacks (+4 melee) with its hind legs for 1d2 damage 
  each (1d3 damage each in hybrid form). If the 
  werejaguarundi pounces on an opponent, it can also 
  rake. 
  Skills: In hybrid or jaguarundi form, 
  werejaguarundis receive a +4 racial bonus to Hide and 
  Move Silently checks and a +8 racial bonus Balance 
  checks. 
  Sample Werejaguarundi 
  This example uses a 1st-level human commoner as the 
  base creature. 
  Werejaguarundi 
  Medium-Size/Small Shapechanger 
  Hit Dice: 1d8+1 (5 hp) 
  Initiative: +0; +3 (Dex) as jaguarundi or hybrid 
  Speed: 30 ft.; 30 ft, climb 20 ft. as jaguarundi or hybrid 
  AC: 12 (+2 natural); 15 (+3 Dex, +2 natural) as hybrid; 
  14 (+3 Dex, +1 size) as jaguarundi 
  Attacks: Unarmed strike +0 melee; bite +4 melee, 2 
  claws +2 melee; bite +4 melee, 2 claws +2 melee 
  as jaguarundi or hybrid 
  Damage: Unarmed strike 1d3 subdual; bite 1d6, claws 
  1d3 as hybrid; bite 1d4, claws 1d2 as jaguarundi 
  Face/Reach: 5 ft. by 5 ft./5 ft. 
  Special Attacks: Pounce, improved grab, rake, curse of 
  lycanthropy as jaguarundi or hybrid 
  Special Qualities: Jaguarundi empathy; plus scent, 
  damage reduction 15/gold as jaguarundi or hybrid. 
  Saves: Fort +3, Ref +8, Will +1 
  Abilities: Str 11, Dex 11, Con 11, Int 10, Wis 10, Cha 
  10; Str 10, Dex 17, Con 13, Int 10, Wis 10, Cha 10 
  as jaguarundi or hybrid 
  Skills: Balance +11, Climb +6, Hide +11, Listen +12 as 
  human or +16 as hybrid or jaguarundi, Move 
  Silently +10, Profession (miner) +4, Search +4 as 
  human or +8 as hybrid or jaguarundi, Spot +8 as 
  human or +12 as hybrid or jaguarundi 
  Feats: Skill Focus (Profession: miner) as human; 
  Blind-Fight, Multiattack, Weapon Finesse (bite, 
  claw) as hybrid or jaguarundi 
  Climate/Terrain: Warm deserts and hills 
  Organization: Solitary, pair, family (2–5), or pack (2–
  5 plus 6–11 jaguarundis) 
  Challenge Rating: 2 
  Alignment: Always chaotic evil 
  Advancement: By character class 
  Vampire, Azeman 
  The azeman is a variant of the traditional vampire, 
  found exclusively in the domain of Tsuu-Y-Teke. 
  Azeman are cold and predatory undead, even more 
  inhuman than normal vampires (if such a thing is 
  possible). They delight in hunting humans like 
  frightened rabbits, and relish the act of taking life. 
  Perhaps their most startling feature, however, is their 
  complete immunity to sunlight. 
  Azeman appear as they did in life, though their 
  skin takes on a deeper bronze tone. When attacking, 
  their cartilaginous jaws actually distend into a 
  horrifying maw so strong that it can snap bone. 
  Azeman speak any languages they know in life. 
  Creating an Azeman 
  “Azeman” is a template that can be added to any 
  humanoid or monstrous humanoid creatures (referred 
  hereafter as the “base creature”). The creature’s type 
  changes to “undead”. It uses all the base creature’s 
  statistics and special abilities except as noted here. 
  Hit Dice: Increase to d12 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT THINGS 
  132 
  Speed: Same as the base creature. If the base 
  creature has a swim speed, the azeman retains the 
  ability to swim. 
  AC: The base creature’s natural armor improves by 
  +6. 
  Attacks: An azeman retains all the attacks of the 
  base creature and also gains a bite attack if it didn’t 
  already have one. 
  Damage: Azeman have a bite attack. If the base 
  creature does not have this attack form, use the damage 
  values in the table below. Creatures with natural attacks 
  retain their old damage ratings or use the values below, 
  whichever is better. 
  Size 
  Damage 
  Fine 
  1d2 
  Diminutive 
  1d3 
  Tiny 
  1d4 
  Small 
  1d6 
  Medium 
  1d8 
  Large 
  2d6 
  Huge 
  2d8 
  Gargantuan 4d6 
  Colossal 
  4d8 
  Special Attacks: An azeman retains all the special 
  attacks of the base creature and also gains those listed 
  below. Saves have a DC of 10+1/2 azeman’s HD + 
  azeman’s Charisma modifier unless noted otherwise. 
  Domination (Su): An azeman can crush an 
  opponent’s will just by looking into his or her eyes. 
  This is similar to a gaze attack, except that the azeman 
  must take a standard action, and those merely looking at 
  it are not affected. Anyone the azeman targets must 
  succeed at a Will save or fall instantly under the 
  azeman’s influence as though by a dominate person 
  spell cast by a 12th-level sorcerer. The ability has a 
  range of 30 feet. 
  Blood Drain (Ex): An azeman can suck blood 
  from a living victim with its fangs by making a 
  successful grapple check. If it pins the foe, it drains 
  blood, inflicting 1d4 points of permanent Constitution 
  drain each round the pin is maintained. 
  Children of the True Night (Su): Azeman 
  command the lesser creatures of the world and once per 
  day can call forth a pack of 10d6 cats, a swarm of 
  10d10 bats, or a flock of 4d6 vultures (treat as eagles) 
  as a standard action. These creatures arrive in 2d6 
  rounds and serve the azeman for up to 1 hour. 
  Create Spawn (Su): A humanoid or monstrous 
  humanoid slain by an azeman’s blood drain attack rises 
  as an azeman 1d4 days after burial. The new azeman is 
  under the command of the azeman that created it and 
  remains enslaved until its master’s death. 
  Special Qualities: An azeman retain all the special 
  qualities of the base creature and those listed below, 
  and also gains the undead type (see page 6 of the 
  Monster Manual). 
  Damage Reduction (Su): An azeman’s undead 
  body is tough, giving the creature damage reduction 
  15/+1. 
  Turn Resistance (Su): An azeman has +4 turn 
  resistance (see page 10 of the Monster Manual). 
  Resistance (Ex): An azeman has cold and 
  electricity resistance 20. 
  Dust Cloud Form (Su): As a standard action, an 
  azeman can assume the form of a cloud of choking 
  dust. This is identical to the spell gaseous form as cast 
  by a 5th level sorcerer, except that the azeman can 
  remain gaseous indefinitely and has a fly speed of 40 
  feet with perfect maneuverability. Opponents who are 
  caught in the dust cloud are blinded and stunned for as 
  long as they remain within it, and for 1d4 rounds 
  thereafter. Creatures with the blindsight ability are 
  immune to this effect. 
  Spider Climb (Ex): An azeman can climb sheer 
  surfaces as though with a spider climb spell. 
  Alternate Form (Su): An azeman can assume the 
  shape of a cat, bat, or vulture (treat as an eagle) as a 
  standard action. This ability is similar to a polymorph 
  self spell cast by a 12th level sorcerer, except that the 
  azeman can assume only one of the forms listed here. It 
  can remain in that form until it assumes another or for 
  twenty-four hours, whichever comes first. 
  Fast Healing (Ex): An azeman heals 3 points of 
  damage each round so long as it has at least 1 hit point. 
  If reduced to 0 hit points or lower, an azeman 
  automatically assumes gaseous form and attempts to 
  escape. It must reach its burial site within 2 hours or be 
  utterly destroyed. (It can travel up to 18 miles in two 
  hours). Once at rest at its burial site, it rises to 1 hit 
  point after 1 hour, then resumes healing at the rate of 3 
  hit points per round. 
  Saves: Same as the base creature. 
  Abilities: Increase from the base creature as 
  follows: Str +4, Dex +4, Int +2, Wis +4, Cha +4. As 
  undead creatures, azeman have no Constitution score. 
  Skills: Azeman receive a +8 racial bonus to Bluff, 
  Hide, Listen, Move Silently, Search, Sense Motive, and 
  Spot checks. Otherwise same as the base creature. 
  Feats: Azeman gain Alertness, Combat Reflexes, 
  Dodge, Improved Initiative, and Lighting Reflexes. 
  Assuming the base creature meets the prerequisites and 
  doesn’t already have the feats. 
  Climate/Terrain: Warm deserts, hills, and 
  mountains 
  Organization: Solitary, pair, or pack (2–5) 
  Challenge Rating: Same as base creature +2 
  Treasure: Double goods (gems only), double 
  items (no metal items) 
  Alignment: Always neutral evil 
  Advancement: By character class 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT THINGS 
  133 
  Azeman Weaknesses 
  Repelling an Azeman 
  Azeman recoil from a strongly presented holy symbol 
  and cannot cross a line of seeds of any type. 
  Slaying an Azeman 
  Simply reducing an azeman’s hit points to 0 or below 
  incapacitates but doesn’t destroy it. Unlike most 
  vampires, azeman are not negatively affected by 
  sunlight. An azeman may only be slain by driving a 
  shaft of solid beryl through the creature’s heart. 
  However, it returns to life if the shaft is removed, 
  unless the body is destroyed by cutting off the 
  creature’s head and hands, cutting them up, and feeding 
  every last bit of gristle and chip of bone to vultures on 
  top of a mesa. 
  Azeman Characters 
  Azeman are always neutral evil, which causes character 
  of certain classes to lose their class abilities, as noted in 
  Chapter 3: Classes in the Player’s Handbook. In 
  addition, certain classes suffer additional penalties. 
  Clerics: Clerics lose their ability to turn undead 
  but gain the ability to rebuke undead. This ability does 
  not affect the azeman’s controller or any other azeman 
  than the master controls. Azeman clerics have access to 
  the Animal, Death, Evil, and Trickery domains. 
  Sorcerers and Wizards: These characters retain 
  their class abilities, but if a character has a familiar 
  (other than a cat or bat), the link between them is 
  broken, and the familiar shuns its former companion. 
  The character can summon another familiar, but it must 
  be a cat or bat. 
  Sample Azeman 
  This example uses a 3rd-level human ranger as the base 
  creature. 
  Azeman 
  Medium-Size Undead 
  Hit Dice: 3d12 (19 hp) 
  Initiative: +8 (+4 Dex, +4 Improved Inititiative) 
  Speed: 30 ft. 
  AC: 20 (+4 Dex, +6 natural) 
  Attacks: Bite +7 melee; 2 stone age hand axes +3/+3 
  melee; stone age shortbow +3 ranged 
  Damage: Bite 1d8+4; stone age hand axes 1d6+2/1d6; 
  stone age shortbow 1d6–2 
  Face/Reach: 5 ft. by 5 ft./5 ft. 
  Special Attacks: Domination, blood drain, children of 
  the true night, create spawn 
  Special Qualities: Undead, damage reduction 15/+1, 
  cold and electricity resistance 20, dust cloud form, 
  spider climb, alternate form, fast healing 3, azeman 
  weaknesses 
  Saves: Fort +3, Ref +7, Will +4 
  Abilities: Str 18, Dex 19, Con –, Int 12, Wis 16, Cha 12 
  Skills: Bluff +8, Hide +16, Listen +8, Move Silently 
  +16, Search +8, Sense Motive +8, Spot +20, 
  Wilderness Lore +7 
  Feats: Alertness, Blind-Fight, Combat Reflexes, 
  Dodge, Improved Initiative, Lightning Reflexes, 
  Point-Blank Shot, Precise Shot, Track 
  Combat 
  Undead: Immune to mind-influencing effects, poison, 
  sleep, paralysis, stunning and disease. Not subject to 
  critical hits, subdual damage, ability damage, energy 
  drain, or death from massive damage. 
  The Will save against this azeman’s charm has a 
  DC of 12. 
  Favored Enemy: Humanoids (humans) 
  Challenge Rating: 5 
  ! 
   
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT THINGS 
  134 
  HIVE SKELETON 
  An Undead Horror with Some Surprising Guests 
  by Dustin “Grigg Deadbreaker” Rathbun 
  dustinrathbun@hotmail.com 
   
  Skeleton, Hive 
  Climate/Terrain 
  Any 
  Frequency 
  Very Rare 
  Organization 
  Pairs or Small Bands 
  Activity Cycle 
  Any 
  Diet 
  None 
  Intelligence 
  Non- (0) 
  Treasure 
  Nil 
  Alignment 
  Neutral 
  No. Appearing 
  2–8 
  Armor Class 
  7 
  Movement 
  12 
  Hit Dice 
  2+1 
  THAC0 
  18 
  No. Of Attacks 
  1 
  Damage/Attack 
  1d4 
  Special Attack 
  Swarm 
  Special Defenses 
  See Below 
  Magic Resistance 
  Nil 
  Size 
  M (6’) 
  Morale 
  Fearless (20) 
  XP Value 
  650 
  Hive skeletons are humanoid skeletons with an 
  insect hive or nest placed within the ribcage. The 
  skeleton is continually covered with a mass of bees or 
  hornets crawling over its dirty, age-yellowed bones. 
  Often, hive skeletons are garbed in a large cloak. The 
  hood is always pulled up in order to obscure the 
  features of the ghastly face in shadows. 
  Hive skeletons do not speak with the living, but are 
  always surrounded by the droning buzz of the insects 
  that use it for a home. 
  Combat 
  A hive skeleton attacks with its jagged finger bones, 
  clawing once per round for 1d4 damage. However, the 
  insects that lair within a hive skeleton will attack 
  anyone coming within a twenty-five foot radius of their 
  nest. Creatures caught within the swarm will take 1d4 + 
  their Armor Class in damage. Creatures with naturally 
  thick hides (AC 7 or better,) and those who take the 
  precaution of sealing any openings in their armor, will 
  not be harmed by the swarm. The swarm can also be 
  kept at bay by an insect or vermin ward, which will also 
  keep the skeleton at bay so long as the queen remains 
  within the hive. A protection from evil spell will keep 
  the skeleton at bay, but the insect swarm will remain 
  unaffected. 
  Unless precautions are taken to prevent the 
  damaging stings of the swarm, such as those listed 
  above, spellcasting within the swarm is not possible. 
  Hive skeletons take only half damage from 
  slashing and piercing weapons, but take full damage 
  from bludgeoning weapons. As undead, they are 
  immune to sleep, charm, and hold spells. They are 
  unaffected by death magic and poison. Some spells, 
  such as cloudkill, can destroy the swarm, but the 
  skeleton will be unaffected. 
  Habitat/Society 
  Hive skeletons were created by an unnamed 
  necromancer by combining a variant of the summon 
  swarm spell with the animate dead spell. In order for 
  the enchantments to take place, a fully intact hive and 
  queen must be placed within the ribcage of the skeleton 
  to be animated. The bones are then coated with honey 
  and the spells are cast. The secret of creating hive 
  skeletons has spread rapidly, and the formula has 
  become easily accessible in the books of necromancers. 
  Ecology 
  As an undead creature, the hive skeleton contributes 
  nothing to the ecology around it. The swarm that makes 
  the skeleton its home however, continues to act as any 
  other representative of its species, albeit much more 
  aggressively. Some hive skeletons have been found 
  with honeycombs inside them. The honey that is 
  produced by the insects of a hive skeleton is useful for 
  creating potions of undead control, or when properly 
  prepared, can become a very sweet tasting poison 
  (Treat as type O, Ingested). 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT THINGS 
  135 
  Variants 
  Some adventurers have reported seeing different 
  versions of hive skeletons housing spiders, centipedes, 
  and even locusts. None of these variants have been kept 
  intact, and if indeed they do exist, the spells for creating 
  them have not yet come to light. 
  ! 
   
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT THINGS 
  136 
  UNDER THE  
  HANDS OF HAGS 
  Being a Bestiary of Creatures Inhabiting the Domain of 
  Tepest, Compiled from the Notes of Dr. Illuvious Sharp 
  by Wes Schneider 
  Dendread@home.com 
   
  The best way to study a creature is 
  through its stuffed corpse. 
  —Dr. Illuvious Sharp 
  Introduction 
  s my frequent readers well know, this land 
  we inhabit is filled with all manner of 
  strange and deadly creatures. From the man 
  hunting plants of Valachan to the snowy 
  felines that stalk across the spine of the Sleeping Beast, 
  a great number of beings, sentient and non-, seem to 
  exist merely to hunt civilized man and terrorize the 
  dreams of children. In my long years as an observer and 
  hunter of the creatures that inhabit our world, I had 
  hoped that I had cataloged all of the most deadly beings 
  in existence. Unfortunately, I have recently found my 
  hopes to be disquietingly incorrect. 
  During my recent travels into the lands of Keening 
  and Tepest, I searched to find what, if any, evidence I 
  could about the creatures that fill the folklore of the 
  region. Though my excursions into Keening were 
  disappointingly short, due to the insistence of my native 
  guide Jacob Winthrop, I found no evidence of any 
  malicious screaming specters. As such, I must disregard 
  all talk of “Banshees,” as the locals call the supposed 
  creatures, as nothing more than the product of 
  overactive imaginations after hearing the wind 
  cascading through the broken environs surrounding Mt. 
  Lament. But even though the tales surrounding Keening 
  seem to be false, I now have proof that many of the 
  beasts that lurk in the tales of the Tepestani are 
  startlingly real. 
  Though I found little to confirm or disregard the 
  tales of the “Fey Folk,” which the natives insist inhabit 
  the lands, I was able to document and even capture 
  several other beasts that threaten the Tepestani 
  population. One such being we came into contact with 
  was a Green Hag by the name of Jezbella, and, after 
  performing a task I refuse to go into detail about, were 
  able to interview her about some of the more mystical 
  creatures of the lands. Though some of these creatures 
  are of a nature alien to my understanding, my guide 
  Jacob and the hag Jezbella have aided me in 
  documenting the biology and lore surrounding these 
  creatures. Following are our notes and studies on 
  several of the supposedly mythical beasts that lurk in 
  the forests of one of our land’s most untamed 
  wildernesses. 
  Wolf, Ravenous 
  Medium-Size Beast 
  Hit Dice: 2d10 (12 hp) 
  Initiative: +2 (Dex) 
  Speed: 40 ft. 
  AC: 13 (+2 Dex, +1 natural) 
  Attacks: Bite +1 melee 
  Damage: Bite 1d8+1 
  Face/Reach: 5 ft. by 5 ft./ 5 ft. 
  Special Qualities: deaf, pack senses, cowardly low-
  light vision 60 ft., darkvision 60 ft. 
  Saves: Fort +3, Ref +0, Will +3 
  Abilities: Str 10, Dex 14, Con 13, Int 3, Wis 2, Cha 5 
  Skills: Spot +6 
  Feats: Alertness 
  A 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT THINGS 
  137 
  Climate/Terrain: Any Mountainous 
  Organization: Pack (6–24) 
  Challenge Rating: ½ 
  Treasure: None 
  Alignment: Neutral 
  Advancement Range: 3–5 HD (Medium-sized), 6–8 
  HD (Large) 
  A ravenous wolf is a particularly brutal and 
  voracious hunter inhabiting the lands of northern Tepest 
  and southern Keening. These creatures appear very 
  much like normal wolves, except for their smaller, 
  seemingly starved, appearance, wild tufts of uneven fur, 
  and crazed yellow eyes. Despite their sickly façade, 
  ravenous wolves dart swiftly towards prey, showing no 
  mercy in battle. 
  Combat 
  Ravenous wolves attack anything moving that comes 
  into sight. When something approaches, the pack 
  attacks en mass, single-mindedly hunting until the 
  quarry is dead, ignoring all other distractions, even that 
  of other potential prey. 
  Deaf: All ravenous wolves are completely deaf. 
  Relying on their heightened senses and those of the 
  others in the pack, they are still able to stay dangerously 
  aware of the areas surrounding them. This deafness 
  gives all ravenous wolves immunity to all sonic abilities 
  and spells that base their effect on sound. 
  Pack Senses (Ex): Ravenous wolves are forced to 
  be completely visual creatures. As they cannot see in all 
  directions at once they rely on the other members of the 
  pack. Each ravenous wolf surveys its surroundings 
  every few moments; in this way they can track the 
  movements of their group and watch for nearing prey. 
  If one ravenous wolf spots a potential quarry it will dart 
  towards it. Moments later, this motion will alert the rest 
  of the pack and the entire group will follow. Ravenous 
  wolf packs are accustomed to working as a whole in 
  this manner, as such the rest of the groups response to a 
  single member’s movement is very swift, allowing the 
  pack to move as a whole mass instead of a line of 
  hunters. 
  Cowardly: For the most part ravenous wolves are 
  cowards. If a single member ever loses more then 75% 
  of its total hit points, the entire pack will break off from 
  their prey. The wounded member will withdraw from 
  all further combat, but the rest of the pack will circle for 
  1d6 rounds, then charge for another assault. If these hit 
  and run assaults fail more then four times, or if 25% of 
  the pack is killed, the remaining group members will 
  flee. 
  Pretty Pinchers 
  Tiny Construct 
  Hit Dice: 1/2d10 (5 hp) 
  Initiative: +3 (Dex) 
  Speed: Fly 30 ft. (Poor) 
  AC: 13 (+3 Dex) 
  Attacks: Slam +0 melee 
  Damage: Slam 1d3 
  Face/Reach: 2 1/2 ft. by 2 1/2 ft./ 0 ft. 
  Special Attacks: word theft/ disease bite 
  Special Qualities: fear shapes, darkvision 60 ft., 
  immune to mind-affecting spells, poison, sleep, 
  paralysis, stunning, disease, death effects, and 
  necromantic effects. 
  Saves: Fort +2, Ref +0, Will +2 
  Abilities: Str 6, Dex 17, Con –, Int 5, Wis 6, Cha 8 
  Climate/Terrain: Any 
  Organization: Group (2–8) 
  Challenge Rating: ½ 
  Treasure: None 
  Alignment: Chaotic Evil 
  Advancement Range: 2–3 HD (Small), 4–5 HD 
  (Medium-sized) 
  Pretty Pinchers are small, expendable servants 
  created by evil spellcasters and hags. These constructs 
  appear as empty, bloodless human hands with stolen bat 
  wings sown on to the back, from the knuckles to the 
  wrist. A slit across the palm is filled with either a 
  human eye or a collection of rotted, mismatched teeth, 
  completing this nightmare creature. Despite their 
  haphazard appearance, pretty pinchers are capable of 
  flight, their wings being their only form of conveyance. 
  Combat 
  Pretty pinchers commonly shy from battle, preferring 
  psychological harassment. When order into battle by 
  their makers, these small constructs attack in a flurry of 
  pounding fists and slashing nails, using their special 
  abilities to further terrify and hinder their opponents. 
  Word Theft (Su): 75% of pretty pinchers created 
  are of the “eye” variety. These constructs have a human 
  eye placed within their palm and serve as both 
  messengers and scouts. All “eye” pretty pinchers have 
  the word theft ability to help them in their missions. 
  Using this ability, pretty pinchers may steal a phrase off 
  the lips of any speaker in sight as it is spoken, and 
  release it elsewhere later. A speaker, though unaware of 
  the attempt to steal his words, does receive a Will save 
  (DC 20), to avoid the recording effects. As the speech is 
  stolen, the speaker hears himself normally, not aware 
  that anything is wrong, though no one else hears him. 
  No more then thirty seconds of speech can be recorded, 
  but this is often enough for an “eye” pincher to record a 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT THINGS 
  138 
  message from its mistress or catch a snippet of 
  information from an intruder. 
  This ability becomes truly dangerous when used 
  against spell casters. “Eye” pinchers may steal spells as 
  they are cast and repeat them back to their full effect at 
  any point afterwards, recasting them as if they were the 
  original caster. Magic-users with the Silent Spell feat 
  are immune to this attack. 
  A particularly nasty trick used by the creators of 
  “eye” pinchers is to record a brief warning message into 
  one of their servants, followed by a swift attack spell, to 
  be released later to intruders. 
  Disease Bite (Ex): 25% of pretty pinchers are of 
  the “fang” variety. Where many of their brethren have 
  eyes implanted within their palms, “fang” pinchers have 
  rows of decayed teeth from a variety of sources bound 
  into them, creating a crude, jagged grimace. “Fang” 
  pinchers are created to serve as small assassins and 
  guardians. Instead of attacking with slaps and punches 
  like other pretty pinchers, those of the “fang” variety 
  use their decaying teeth in a rotten bite attack. The bite 
  itself does only 1d4 damage, but victims must make a 
  fortitude save or contract a disease of the DM’s choice. 
  Fear Shapes (Ex): One feature that sets pretty 
  pinchers leagues apart from other golems and 
  constructs is their warped intelligence. Something in the 
  creation of pretty pinchers bestows them with what can 
  only be called a dangerously dark sense of humor. As 
  such, pretty pinchers will often perform a variety of 
  peculiar actions, from joining together in mid-air to 
  create hand puppets mocking their maker or intruders, 
  to arranging local refuse into sadistically suggestive 
  forms. Piles of bones, misplaced skulls, even nearby 
  vegetation become the tools of pretty pinchers without 
  pressing orders. Flying from place to place, cooperating 
  with one another, the pinchers will create truly fearful 
  and grotesque shapes. From six-foot tall piles of skulls, 
  stick figures hung from ivy nooses, bones arranged in 
  shapes suggestive of intruders, the pinchers add a 
  fearful décor to the places they inhabit. Those who are 
  not prepared for these fear shapes begin to suffer from 
  apprehension, leading to true horror. Those who 
  witness a fear shape must make a Will save (DC 15) or 
  suffer the effects of fear, suffering a –2 morale penalty 
  to saving throws. Each fear shape seen after the first 
  raises the DC of the Will save by 1. Therefore, if three 
  fear shapes are seen the will save must be made vs. DC 
  17. The effects of a fear shape last for two hours. Once 
  the effects of a previous fear shape have worn off, a 
  will save vs. a new shape is made at the original DC of 
  15. 
  Cauldron Spawn 
  Small Undead 
  Hit Dice: 2d12 (12 hp) 
  Initiative: +1 (Dex) 
  Speed: Fly 40 ft. (Perfect) 
  AC: 11 (+1 Dex) 
  Attacks: Bite +1 melee 
  Damage: Bite 1d4+1 
  Face/Reach: 5 ft. by 5 ft./ 5 ft. 
  Special Attacks: Maddening Bite 
  Special Qualities: Incorporeal, Acrid Scent, 
  Darkvision (60’), +1 or better to hit, Immune to 
  poison, sleep, paralysis, stunning, disease, death 
  effects, or necromantic effects. 
  Saves: Fort +0, Ref +0, Will +3 
  Abilities: Str 10, Dex 13, Con —, Int 11, Wis 10, Cha 
  10 
  Skills: Hide +2 
  Feats: Dodge 
  Climate/Terrain: Any 
  Organization: Solitary (1) 
  Challenge Rating: 2 
  Treasure: None 
  Alignment: Chaotic Neutral 
  Advancement Range: 3–6 HD (Medium-sized), 7–10 
  HD (Large) 
  Cauldron spawn are the undead amalgamation of 
  dozens, even hundreds, of souls that have been used in 
  the meals and experiments of hags. These tiny wraiths 
  appear as little more then slight wisps of ebon smoke in 
  miniature humanoid form, two slits of stark, dead white 
  forming eyes at its supposed “head”. Cauldron spawn 
  move through the air, flying or hovering at any level 
  they wish, moving at swift and deadly speeds. 
  Combat 
  Cauldron spawn attack any sentient being they 
  encounter, but not out of hatred like most undead, but at 
  a need to deliver their ultimately fatal bite. Swift 
  ambushes make up the majority of the cauldron 
  spawn’s tactics, allowing them to rush from cover, 
  make a single attack, and flee, leaving only madness 
  and their stinging smell in their wake. 
  Maddening Bite (Su): Unknown amounts of poor 
  lost souls are combined to create a cauldron born. Each 
  one of them undoubtedly had their own hopes, loves, 
  and ambitions for the future, none of which probably 
  consisted of meeting their end sinking into a briny 
  black vat of iron, surrounded by hell-spawned demon 
  women. When a cauldron spawn is formed all of these 
  dashed hopes and feelings of loss, despair, and hatred 
  remain, fused into one chaotic being. Each mind that 
  makes up the cauldron spawn wants these emotions 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT THINGS 
  139 
  released, hoping that they did not die needlessly, hoping 
  their hopes will live on by bestowing them to another. 
  Through their maddening bite (1d4+1 damage), a 
  cauldron spawn pass on the memories built up within 
  all of its sprits in a wisp of black smoke. Unfortunately 
  thousands of conflicting emotions and hundreds of 
  brutal ends being forced onto a person at once is often 
  too much for a sane mind to bear. Anyone bitten by a 
  cauldron spawn must make a Will save (DC 20). Those 
  who save are able to repress, contain, or force away 
  many of the cauldron spawn’s thoughts. Those who fail 
  their save find themselves overcome by a flood of a 
  thousand memories that breaks past their mental 
  defenses, washing away all sanity. Only the most 
  extreme psychological aid, remove curse spell, or heal 
  spell, will allow one afflicted with a cauldron spawn’s 
  memories to deal with the fragment of these minds 
  bestowed upon them. 
  Acrid Scent: Due to the years spent surrounded by 
  the potions and brews of hags, the cauldron spawn 
  retains the acrid sent of poison and death. Any who 
  come within twenty feet of a cauldron spawn or passes 
  through an area they have been in within the last day, 
  can easily discern their overpowering smell. This acrid 
  smell makes the cauldron spawn relatively easy to track 
  (DC 15 for those without the Track feat, DC 10 to those 
  with it). 
  ! 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT THINGS 
  140 
  WEREGLUTTON 
  A Lycanthrope Whose Fury Knows No Bounds 
  by Michael Massey 
  shadowangel@prodigy.com 
   
  Author’s Note: “Glutton” is one of the many 
  nicknames for the animal known as the wolverine. It is 
  called a “glutton” because it will eat berries, bird eggs, 
  and any animal that it can kill. 
  Lycanthrope, Wereglutton 
  Climate/Terrain 
  Any Subarctic 
  Frequency 
  Very Rare 
  Organization 
  Pack 
  Activity Cycle 
  Night 
  Diet 
  Carnivore 
  Intelligence 
  High (12–14) 
  Treasure 
  A 
  Alignment 
  Chaotic Evil 
  No. Appearing 
  1–6 
  Armor Class 
  5 
  Movement 
  12 
  Hit Dice 
  5+5 
  THAC0 
  14 (12) 
  No. Attacks 
  3 (5) 
  Damage/Attack 
  2–5/2–5/2–8 
  Special Attacks 
  Berserk, see below 
  Special Defenses 
  +1 or granite weapons to hit 
  Magic Resistance 
  Nil 
  Size 
  M 
  Morale 
  Special 
  XP Value 
  950 
  erewolverines, or weregluttons as they are 
  known, are humans who can change 
  themselves into wolverines. In their human 
  form, their most distinguishing traits are 
  excessive body hair, short tempers, and an almost feral 
  air about them. 
  Their hybrid form is a hideous, slavering 
  monstrosity standing over six feet tall. Their broad, 
  hulking body is covered in thick, short, coarse, brown 
  fur with two lighter stripes of fur running down their 
  sides. It has long hooked claws on both hands and feet, 
  a mouth full of sharp needle-like teeth, and eyes that 
  seem to glow with an utter hatred of everything they 
  encounter. 
  Their animal aspect is slightly more powerfully 
  built than a giant wolverine, but is otherwise 
  indistinguishable from one. 
  In either hybrid or animal form, a wereglutton has 
  wide paws designed for running across snow and ice, 
  allowing it to move at its normal movement rate with 
  no penalties for terrain. 
  Combat 
  Weregluttons are ruthless fighters when pressed (and 
  even when not pressed), attacking with two claw 
  attacks followed by a savage bite. Once every four 
  rounds there is a chance that the wereglutton will enter 
  a berserk frenzy. A save vs. death magic should be 
  rolled, with failure indicating that the wereglutton has 
  gone berserk and usually will not stop until it or its 
  opponent is dead. While berserk, the wereglutton 
  becomes even more dangerous. The wereglutton’s 
  THAC0 improves by +2, it gains an extra two attacks 
  (its hind claws), and it inflicts double damage on all 
  attacks. Furthermore, a natural 20 on an attack roll 
  while in this state indicates the wereglutton has bitten 
  its opponent’s neck; if the opponent fails to save vs. 
  death magic, the wereglutton rips his opponent’s throat 
  open. The victim of this attack will fall to the ground 
  unconscious and begin choking on his own blood in 
  1d6 rounds (losing 1d4 hit point per round). Witnessing 
  this happen is grounds for a horror check. Also, while 
  berserk, a wereglutton will fight to the death, refusing 
  to retreat; it will collapse only when brought to –10 hit 
  points. 
  Due to their lycanthropic nature, weregluttons are 
  immune to normal weapons; only weapons of +1 or 
  better enchantment or those made of granite will hurt 
  them. Sages are unsure as to the connection, but 
  speculate that the link may have to do with granite’s 
  incredible durability. Interestingly enough, powdered 
  granite also has a baneful effect on weregluttons. If 
  thrown in a wereglutton’s face, the powder blinds the 
  creature for 1d8 rounds (the lycanthrope can save vs. 
  breath weapon to halve this duration). Should a 
  W 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT THINGS 
  141 
  wereglutton inhale the dust, it must save vs. breath 
  weapon or begin choking on the dust, suffering 1d4 
  points of damage for 1d4 rounds. If the granite dust is 
  hurled at a wereglutton while berserk, it must save vs. 
  death magic or cease berserking. Thus far, this is the 
  only known way to snap a wereglutton out of its frenzy. 
  For every point of damage a wereglutton inflicts 
  upon its opponent, there is a 2% chance (4% in 
  Ravenloft) that the victim will become infected with 
  lycanthropy. Sages are unsure of the reason for this 
  strain being easier to contract than all others, but it is at 
  present being researched. 
  Habitat/Society 
  Normal wolverines are typically solitary creatures. 
  Weregluttons, on the other hand, travel in small packs. 
  If encountered the weregluttons will usually be the ones 
  to initiate the fight. Female weregluttons give birth to 
  1–3 young who resemble baby wolverines until they are 
  three years of age, when they devlop the ability to adopt 
  a human form. Weregluttons grow to maturity by age 
  six. They usually live to be only forty years old. 
  Ecology 
  Weregluttons are possibly among the deadliest of the 
  lycanthropes, attacking without provocation to destroy 
  and consume nearly everything in sight. They will 
  decimate entire forests and mountains of wildlife only 
  to move on to better hunting grounds once they have 
  exhausted the area of animal life. Although they can eat 
  any meat, they prefer humans above all other animals. 
  Weregluttons have been known to enter and decimate 
  remote human settlements strictly for “better hunting 
  grounds” once other prey (such as caribou and deer) 
  have migrated elsewhere for food. 
  ! 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT THINGS 
  142 
  PATCHWORK FOLK 
  A Creature Stitched with Bitter Threads 
  by Andrew Wyatt 
  wyatt@kargatane.com 
   
  Patchwork Folk 
  Medium-Size Construct 
  Hit Dice: 2d10 (11 hp) 
  Initiative: +1 (Dex) 
  Speed: 30 ft. 
  AC: 11 (+1 Dex) 
  Attacks: Short sword +3 melee; light crossbow +2 
  ranged 
  Damage: Short sword 1d6+2; light crossbow 1d8 
  Face/Reach: 5 ft. by 5 ft. 
  Special Qualities: Construct, repairs, fire vulnerability, 
  darkvision 60 ft. 
  Saves: Fort +0, Ref +1, Will +0 
  Abilities: Str 15, Dex 12, Con —, Int 10, Wis 11, Cha 
  11 
  Skills: Bluff +3, Craft (tailoring) +3, Disguise +3, Hide 
  +5, Listen +5, Move Silently +5, Spot +5 
  Feats: Alertness 
  Climate/Terrain: Any land and underground 
  Organization: Solitary, pair, or gang (3–6) 
  Challenge Rating: 1 
  Treasure: Standard 
  Alignment: Usually chaotic evil 
  Advancement Range: By character class 
  Patchwork folk are strange, reclusive creatures 
  made of little more than cloth, thread, and stuffing. 
  They lurk on the fringes of society, violently acting out 
  on their bitter envy of humankind. 
  Patchwork folk might be mistaken for normal 
  humans in poor lighting or at an appreciable distance. 
  They are designed to resemble humans, certainly, but 
  the similarities are superficial. Patchwork folk’s “skin” 
  is made of a crazy-quilt pattern of cloth scraps, stitched 
  together into something approaching a human form. 
  More fortunate patchwork folk are constructed 
  exclusively of materials with colors that are close to 
  human skin tones. Most, however, have more than a 
  few patches with bright colors or distinctly unnatural 
  patterns, such as stripes, paisleys, or plaids. 
  Instead of hair, patchwork folk sport mops of yarn, 
  usually some inconspicuous “natural” hair color such as 
  black, brown, pale yellow, or dark red. The creature’s 
  eyes are glass, but appear astonishingly lifelike. 
  Patchwork folk are typically stuffed with dried leaves to 
  give them shape. Nonetheless, their “skin” is 
  surprisingly firm, with well-defined features and 
  responding to pressure much like human flesh. 
  Patchwork folk wear clothing that is appropriate for the 
  local human population, though they favor garments 
  that conceal their unnatural appearance. 
  Patchwork folk speak local human languages in a 
  normal voice, though they have some difficulty with 
  sounds that require teeth (such as “f’s” and hard “th’s”). 
  They do not require food or water to survive. They are 
  nomadic and restless by nature, living alone or in small 
  groups. Patchwork folk hate all other creatures and 
  races, but reserve a special kind of obsession for 
  humankind. Their feelings towards humans alternate 
  erratically between infatuation and envious rage. 
  Combat 
  Patchwork folk are surprisingly athletic, exhibiting 
  impressive strength and agility in combat. Nonetheless, 
  they are cautious and cowardly by nature, preferring to 
  flee unless they have a distinct advantage. They will not 
  even defend the temporary lairs they make, since their 
  possessions (usually a sewing kit and a handful of 
  treasure) are light enough to be carried with them at all 
  times. 
  Construct: Immune to mind-influencing effects, 
  poison, disease, and similar effects. Not subject to 
  critical hits, subdual damage, ability damage, energy 
  drain, or death from massive damage. 
  Repairs (Ex): Like most constructs, patchwork 
  folk cannot heal on their own. They can be repaired, 
  however, by a character with the Craft (tailoring) skill. 
  Patchwork folk can even repair themselves with this 
  skill. The total cost of the raw materials used in a 
  patchwork folk is only 1 gp, so any repairs cost a mere 
  2 sp. Once repairs are completed, the patchwork folk is 
  restored to full hit points. See pg. 66 of the Player’s 
  Handbook for more details on repairing items using the 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT THINGS 
  143 
  Craft skill. A patchwork folk is considered a typical 
  item with a DC of 10. 
  Fire Vulnerability (Ex): A patchwork folk takes 
  double damage from fire attacks unless the attack 
  allows a save, in which case it takes double damage on 
  a failure and no damage on a success. 
  Patchwork Folk Society 
  Patchwork folk are a paradox, simultaneously insular 
  and curious. They want more than anything to be 
  human; unfortunately, they deal with this impossible 
  desire by lashing out violently at any convenient human 
  target. Ironically, they experience emotions on an epic 
  scale, perhaps more intensely than humans. Depressed 
  patchwork folk are inconsolable, while enraged 
  patchwork folk are positively volcanic. Love is a 
  particularly problematic emotion for them. A 
  patchwork folk that becomes infatuated with a human 
  will pursue the imagined love interest beyond all 
  reasonable bounds. Usually, the patchwork folk ends up 
  murdering its beloved in a fit of rage, only to slink off 
  into weeks of dazed depression, confused about what 
  precisely went wrong. 
  The first patchwork folk was created by human 
  hands over a century ago. Likely some variety of 
  unique golem born of obsession, this creature 
  eventually learned that it could stitch together progeny 
  in much the same fashion that its creator had done. 
  Over time, this being’s progeny spread across the Land 
  of Mists. Every patchwork folk understands intuitively 
  how to create more of its kind. Typically, however, 
  after a single, disillusioning attempt at creating a 
  companion, a patchwork folk never makes another of 
  its kind again. Thus, these creatures “reproduce” but 
  once, if at all. The secret of how another intelligent 
  creature might make a patchwork folk died with the 
  race’s human progenitor. 
  Patchwork folk only have the loosest racial 
  cohesion. They have no culture to speak of, only a 
  shared tendency towards hatefulness and neurotic 
  behavior. When they travel in one another’s company, 
  it is more for the sake of convenience than for any real 
  need to be with their own kind. Indeed, many 
  patchwork folk hate the sight of one another, as it 
  serves as a constant reminder of their inhumanity. 
  Patchwork Folk Characters 
  A patchwork folk’s favored class is rogue, though many 
  are also fighters. Few spellcasting patchwork folk exist, 
  though there are a few sorcerers among their kind. 
  ! 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT THINGS 
  144 
  ELEMENTAL CORRUPTION 
  Eight New Horrors from the Inner Planes 
  by Mark “Mortavius” Graydon 
  Mortavius@cnx.net 
   
  Introduction 
  n the Misty confines of the Demiplane of 
  Dread, the dark powers work to warp the 
  effects of spells cast within their purview. 
  Whether they grant these spells, or just work 
  to change them, is a topic for another day. But spells 
  are altered. One school of magic that runs the risk of 
  being changed is conjuration: spells that summon those 
  mystical creatures known as elementals. Such creatures 
  may become twisted mockeries of their normal form, 
  which undoubtedly drives the original alien mind of the 
  creature into an alien madness. But what of the other 
  elemental creatures that are summoned into the 
  Demiplane? For a while, it was thought that only those 
  creatures that embodied an element could be 
  summoned. But wizards, rarely content with what they 
  already know, have breached the boundaries of magic 
  and created spells to summon other natives of the 
  Elemental Planes to the mortal realms. The dark powers 
  watch these with interest, and twist such summonings 
  as they have for the other spells, creating some 
  interesting creatures in the process. 
  Whenever any creature from the Inner Planes is 
  summoned into Ravenloft, there is a 20% chance that 
  the summoned creature is corrupted by the dark powers 
  and becomes a Ravenloft variant of the common 
  creature. Such creatures are automatically freed from 
  any control the summoner may have had over them, and 
  must roll a madness check. (Madness checks for 
  creatures are all saves vs. paralyzation.) Any 
  summoned creature also automatically realizes that it 
  will not be able to return home, and will react according 
  to its nature. 
  Of all the magic used to conjure Inner Planar 
  creatures, by far the spells of aerial servant (from the 
  PLAYER’S HANDBOOK) and conjure elemental-kin (from 
  PLAYER’S OPTION: Spells & Magic) are the most 
  commonly used. Note however, that enterprising 
  wizards can (and have) created numerous spells to 
  summon nearly any sort of extraplanar creature to the 
  Prime Material Plane, regardless of the danger to 
  themselves and others. Note, that any of the other forms 
  of elementals (Greater, Lesser, or Miniature) undergo 
  the same changes as their normal cousins, as detailed in 
  the RAVENLOFT MONSTROUS COMPENDIUM Appendix I. 
  Below are the corrupted versions of the more 
  commonly summoned Inner Planar denizens. 
  Mist Sylph 
  Climate/Terrain: 
  Any Ravenloft / Foggy areas 
  Frequency: 
  Very Rare 
  Organization: 
  Solitary 
  Activity Cycle: 
  Any 
  Diet: 
  Carnivore 
  Intelligence: 
  Exceptional (15–16) 
  Treasure: 
  Nil 
  Alignment: 
  Neutral (evil) 
  No. Appearing: 
  1 
  Armor Class: 
  8 
  Movement: 
  9, Fly 24 (A) 
  Hit Dice: 
  3 
  THAC0: 
  17 
  No. of Attacks: 
  1 
  Damage/Attack: 
  By weapon 
  Special Attacks: 
  Spells 
  Special Defenses: 
  Spells 
  Magic Resistance: 
  50% 
  Size: 
  M (4’–5’ tall) 
  Morale: 
  Elite (14) 
  XP Value: 
  1,400 
  The mist sylph is a sylph that is summoned to 
  Ravenloft and corrupted by the dark powers. It appears 
  to be a fairy-like being, though it is nearly as large as a 
  human. Its wavy hair is composed of cloying mist, and 
  such vapors trail around the creature at all times. 
  Otherwise, mist sylphs have elven features, but with a 
  cruel twist, and wings of dragonflies. However, their 
  wings do not seem to catch the light and glitter like the 
  insects’ do; instead they seem muted and dull, and 
  whenever the mist sylph moves them a harsh staccato 
  sound reverberates in the area. (Unlike normal sylphs, 
  mist sylphs must use their wings to fly; they have no 
  innate levitation power.) 
  I 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT THINGS 
  145 
  When a mist slyph is first summoned, it must make 
  a saving throw vs. paralysis or go mad. 
  If forced into combat, the mist sylph has no natural 
  attacks. Her body is much too frail, and she has no skill 
  wielding weapons (if forced to fight with a weapon she 
  has a –5 penalty to hit). However, the mist sylph has 
  potent spellcasting abilities, and it is for this reason that 
  she will often try to fight from a distance, allowing her 
  spells to take full effect while removing her from the 
  danger of the fight. 
  The mist sylph has a number of spell-like abilities 
  she can cast once per day (unless otherwise noted). She 
  casts all the following spells at 7th level: feather fall 
  (twice per day), wall of fog (three times per day), dust 
  devil, fog cloud, ride the wind, stinking cloud, 
  whispering wind, gust of wind (twice per day), wind 
  wall, solid fog (twice per day), and cloud of 
  putrefaction. 
  Also, all mist sylphs have the ability to assume 
  mist form, in which they cannot be harmed. Such a form 
  can be maintained for up to three hours. They can, once 
  per month, summon a mist elemental. However, they 
  have no control over this creature, so they would most 
  likely only do this under duress, since the mist sylph 
  would very likely become the object of the elemental’s 
  anger. 
  Mist sylphs do not have the ability to infuse evil as 
  their elemental counterparts do, but they seem to take 
  delight in corrupting mortals into evil actions. Their 
  favorite tactic is to find a sleeping victim and use their 
  whispering wind power to send evil thoughts and words 
  to the sleeping person’s ears. This has the effect of 
  inducing nightmares in the poor sleeper, causing the 
  victim to suffer as if he had experienced a vivid 
  nightmare (as explained in The Nightmare Lands). In 
  short, the victim must make a System Shock roll with a 
  –25% penalty or suffer a –1 penalty to all die rolls for 
  the next 24 hours. Note, that the mist sylph’s power 
  encompasses a two-foot radius, so if multiple people 
  are sleeping within this area they are all subject to the 
  effects. Those of evil alignment are unaffected by this 
  power and those who are neutral only suffer a –15% 
  penalty to their System Shock rolls. 
  The mist sylph is a hateful and spiteful creature. Its 
  transformation has robbed it of its natural levitation 
  ability, making it work much harder to stay aloft. 
  Sylphs naturally have distaste for the ground, and thus 
  the fact that they must return to it so often to rest their 
  wings irks them to no end. 
  Mist sylphs still build nests, but they have a 
  predisposition for those areas that gather fog and mist, 
  such as forest glens. Many have found the Mistlands, in 
  the domain of Necropolis, to be to their liking. They 
  avoid the Misty Border however, due to its dangerous 
  nature, and the lack of building materials for a nest. 
  They will always build their homes as high as possible 
  to allow them to still stay in the concealing fog. Mist 
  sylph reproduction is identical to that of the normal 
  sylph, except that they dare not summon an elemental 
  to guard their egg for fear of its destruction. 
  Mist sylphs live for up to 1,000 years, but they 
  grow increasingly haggard and ugly as their time of 
  death approaches. 
  Mist Servant 
  Climate/Terrain: 
  Any Ravenloft / Foggy areas 
  Frequency: 
  Very Rare 
  Organization: 
  Solitary 
  Activity Cycle: 
  Any 
  Diet: 
  Wind 
  Intelligence: 
  Semi- (2–4) 
  Treasure: 
  Nil 
  Alignment: 
  Neutral Evil 
  No. Appearing: 
  1 
  Armor Class: 
  3 
  Movement: 
  Fly 18 (A) 
  Hit Dice: 
  16 
  THAC0: 
  5 
  No. of Attacks: 
  1 
  Damage/Attack: 
  7d4 
  Special Attacks: 
  Strangulation, Infuse Evil 
  Special Defenses: 
  +1 or better weapon to hit 
  Magic Resistance: 
  Nil 
  Size: 
  L (8’ tall) 
  Morale: 
  Elite (14) 
  XP Value: 
  13,000 
  The mist servant is summoned by powerful clerics, 
  and just like the air elementals it is related to, it stands 
  the risk of being corrupted when summoned. The mist 
  servant changes very little when it is so changed 
  however. The creature goes from being naturally 
  invisible as an aerial servant to becoming just barely 
  able to be seen (Intelligence checks are required to spot 
  the creature). It appears as a legless humanoid 
  composed of mist, with a face devoid of all emotion. 
  When first summoned, a mist servant must make a 
  saving throw vs. paralysis or immediately go mad. 
  When commanded to fight (or drawn into one) the 
  mist servant attacks suddenly, and without warning. Its 
  natural near-invisibility and speed cause its enemies to 
  suffer a –4 penalty to their surprise rolls. The creature 
  attacks by slashing with its hands and attempting a 
  stranglehold (it has a Strength score of 23). If it 
  successfully strikes then it grabs hold and causes 
  normal damage to the victim each round until the 
  victim dies or breaks free. To break free a victim must 
  either have greater Hit Dice than the mist servant or 
  exceptional Strength. If the latter is the case, then the 
  victim receives a chance equal to his percentile Strength 
  to break free. Those with Strength 18/00 or higher, or 
  with more HD than the Servant can break away 
  instantly. 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT THINGS 
  146 
  The mist servant also has the mist elemental’s 
  ability to infuse evil, though it is more limited than the 
  elemental’s. The mist servant must first successfully 
  grab hold of the victim. Then, the next round it flows 
  into the victim’s orifices, and the victim is wracked 
  with pain as the servant battles with the spirit of the 
  host. In game terms, the victim of this attack can do 
  nothing for the round but attempt a save vs. death 
  magic. Those who succeed can expel the mist servant 
  (which usually causes it to flee) and suffer no further 
  effects. Those who fail, however, have their alignments 
  converted to Chaotic Evil for the time that the servant 
  holds control over them. Once the mist servant is in 
  place, only a dispel evil or banishment spell will 
  remove it. 
  The mist servant is extremely resentful of any 
  cleric who summons it to the Demiplane. It 
  immediately breaks free of its control and will attack 
  the priest who summoned it if he is not protected by a 
  protection from evil spell. If the priest is protected, then 
  the mist servant will likely track the priest, waiting for a 
  chance to strike. 
  Mist servants who are caught in violent storms 
  have a 5% chance of being blown in two, creating two 
  mist servants, both with half the strength of the original. 
  Also, normal aerial servants feed upon the wind of the 
  Elemental Plane of Air. However, no such breezes 
  occur in the Demiplane, and after thirty days they begin 
  to take 1d8 damage per day. Usually around this time 
  the mist servant goes quite insane and on a killing 
  rampage. 
  Crypt Gnome 
  Climate/Terrain: 
  Any Ravenloft / Graveyards 
  Frequency: 
  Rare 
  Organization: 
  Clan 
  Activity Cycle: 
  Night 
  Diet: 
  Carnivore 
  Intelligence: 
  Average to Exceptional (8–16) 
  Treasure: 
  Z 
  Alignment: 
  Neutral Evil 
  No. Appearing: 
  1 
  Armor Class: 
  4 
  Movement: 
  9, Burrow 9 
  Hit Dice: 
  4 
  THAC0: 
  16 
  No. of Attacks: 
  3 
  Damage/Attack: 
  1d3+3, 1d3+3, 1d3+3 
  Special Attacks: 
  Spells 
  Special Defenses: 
  Immune to Petrification 
  Magic Resistance: 
  25% 
  Size: 
  S (4’ tall) 
  Morale: 
  Average (10) 
  XP Value: 
  1,400 
  Crypt gnomes are corrupted forms of the pech. 
  They appear as small humanoids with bone-white skin 
  and eyes lacking any pupils. Their hair is matted and 
  dirty, and smudges of dirt cover their small bodies. 
  Most noticeable however, are the small claws that 
  sprout from each finger, and when they open their 
  mouths, small rows of tiny needle-sharp teeth can be 
  seen. 
  When the pech are summoned and corrupted, they 
  must make saving throw vs. paralysis or go mad. Most 
  fail and go insane, taking relish in their new lives. 
  Crypt gnomes have a Strength score of 18/50. This 
  gives them a +1 bonus to hit and a +3 bonus to damage; 
  these bonuses have already been factored into their 
  scores above. Most crypt gnomes avoid fighting, but if 
  their lair is entered (this includes the ground above their 
  lair) and the force entering is not overtly large, then the 
  creatures will most likely attack. They do so by slashing 
  with their small claws and biting with their teeth. 
  Crypt gnomes also have a number of spell abilities 
  at their disposal. Each crypt gnome can cast stone shape 
  four times per day, and a special version of stone tell 
  four times per day. This specialized version can only be 
  used on gravestones, and when employed, the stone will 
  tell the crypt gnome all the details about the corpse 
  buried beneath it, including the current state of the 
  body, depth, burial raiment, and any valuables left with 
  the body. Four crypt gnomes together can prepare a 
  stone wall to become a living wall, as detailed in the 
  Monstrous Manual. Eight crypt gnomes together can 
  cast flesh to stone once per day. 
  When fighting any sort of creature composed of 
  stone, the crypt gnomes can strike without needing a 
  magical weapon, and always cause maximum damage. 
  Crypt gnomes band together under cemeteries in 
  tunnels that they dig. They have infravision to 120 feet, 
  and usually claim an area of about 50 yards’ diameter. 
  Anything that isn’t a very large force is attacked, as the 
  crypt gnomes have a very potent ability to detect 
  vibrations on the surface. The one exception to this is 
  daylight. The crypt gnomes will go out under overcast 
  skies, but will never venture forth under daylight, and if 
  their enemy has artificial light, they will always 
  consider ways to douse it. 
  Crypt gnomes live to loot. Their entire society is 
  based upon who in the clan can gain the most valuables, 
  and they have found the best way to gain these, is to use 
  their powers to loot them from the dead. However, once 
  the cemetery is totally emptied of valuables, they will 
  move on to nearby towns and the like, terrorizing the 
  locals with their theft and appearance. 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT THINGS 
  147 
  Graveling 
  Climate/Terrain: 
  Any Ravenloft / Graveyards 
  Frequency: 
  Rare 
  Organization: 
  Solitary 
  Activity Cycle: 
  Always 
  Diet: 
  Herbivore/Scavenger 
  Intelligence: 
  Animal (1) 
  Treasure: 
  Nil 
  Alignment: 
  Neutral 
  No. Appearing: 
  1 
  Armor Class: 
  4 
  Movement: 
  12, Burrow 6 
  Hit Dice: 
  4 
  THAC0: 
  17 
  No. of Attacks: 
  1 
  Damage/Attack: 
  2d8 
  Special Attacks: 
  Fear 
  Special Defenses: 
  Nil 
  Magic Resistance: 
  Nil 
  Size: 
  L (10’ diameter) 
  Morale: 
  Average (8–10) 
  XP Value: 
  650 
  Gravelings are the corrupted forms of sandlings. 
  These creatures resemble their natural forms very 
  closely, except that instead of being constructed of sand 
  they are made of wet dirt, worms, and crumbled 
  headstones, as well as the occasional bone or piece of 
  coffin. 
  When a sandling is corrupted into a Graveling, it 
  must make a saving throw vs. paralysis or go mad. 
  Gravelings attack in much the same way as 
  sandlings; they wait until prey walks across them, then 
  lunge upwards around the victim, sealing him in a globe 
  of grave dirt. The graveling can only capture up to two 
  man-sized creatures in this globe (or 1 size L creature, 4 
  size S creatures, or 8 size T creatures). Victims of this 
  attack have a –2 penalty to their surprise rolls and if 
  successfully grabbed cannot successfully fight while 
  trapped. However, they can try to break free by making 
  a successful Open Doors roll (vs. locked door); one 
  attempt can be made each round. Those outside can 
  assist those inside; in this case the victim need only 
  make a successful Open Doors roll vs. a stuck door. 
  Those trapped inside suffer 2d4 damage each round due 
  to abrasions and digestive acids. If the victim’s friends 
  outside attack the graveling while it has someone 
  trapped within, the graveling takes normal damage, but 
  the victim inside also suffers half the damage of the 
  attack. 
  While the graveling has any victim trapped, it can 
  still lash out each round with a pseudopod to attack 
  those around it, causing the listed damage. Also, it 
  enacts its Fear power against those who are trapped 
  within the creature. Those inside are subjected to a 
  mental torrent of fearful images that are only enhanced 
  by the poor victim’s surroundings (this power can only 
  be used against those who are trapped within the beast). 
  The victim of this fear effect must make a fear check. If 
  the check is successful the victim can act this round. 
  Otherwise the victim is stuck with fear and must 
  immediately roll the results of a fear check. If the check 
  is passed then the victim is not out of danger however. 
  Each round another fear check must be made, with a 
  cumulative –1 penalty. The torrent of fear will erode 
  even the most determined minds given enough time. 
  A graveling has a different composition to it than a 
  sandling, so it requires fifteen gallons of water to cause 
  the creature to act as though under a slow spell. Note, 
  that if the graveling is attacked with a heat source (such 
  as a fireball) after being slowed like this, then the water 
  will evaporate enough that the creature will be free to 
  act normally. Otherwise, the creature remains slowed 
  for an hour. Also, when slowed the graveling still 
  causes normal damage, due to its composition. 
  The graveling is also sufficiently mutated from its 
  original form that it can and does feed upon organic 
  matter. Most often this is just bacteria, plants, and the 
  small creatures commonly found in graveyards (insects, 
  worms, rodents). However, although gravelings will not 
  specifically hunt humanoids, they will feed upon one if 
  it is killed or a carcass is found. 
  Gravelings reproduce exactly like their sandling 
  counterparts, by budding when they reach full maturity. 
  Heat Stalker 
  Climate/Terrain: 
  Any Ravenloft / Extremely hot areas 
  Frequency: 
  Rare 
  Organization: 
  Solitary 
  Activity Cycle: 
  Any 
  Diet: 
  Carnivore 
  Intelligence: 
  Very (11–12) 
  Treasure: 
  Nil 
  Alignment: 
  Chaotic Evil 
  No. Appearing: 
  1 
  Armor Class: 
  5 
  Movement: 
  9 
  Hit Dice: 
  7+7 
  THAC0: 
  13 
  No. of Attacks: 
  2 
  Damage/Attack: 
  1d4, 2d6 
  Special Attacks: 
  Drain heat, fire 
  Special Defenses: 
  +1 or better to hit 
  Magic Resistance: 
  Nil 
  Size: 
  M (7’ long) 
  Morale: 
  Elite (14) 
  XP Value: 
  4,000 
  The Heat Stalker is the corrupted form of the 
  salamander, a creature from the Elemental Plane of 
  Fire. Their new, skeletal forms resemble blackened 
  humanoid torsos with the lower bodies of snakes. They 
  have horns sprouting from their heads, and their entire 
  bodies are wreathed in a sheath of orange-green flame. 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT THINGS 
  148 
  When Heat Stalkers are summoned, they must 
  make an immediate save vs. paralyzation or go mad. 
  Heat stalkers attack in a vicious and almost 
  desperate manner. They strike twice with their 
  sharpened finger bones, and then try to constrict with 
  their snake-like tails. Victims suffer 1d4 points of 
  damage from the claw attacks, and 2d6 from the tail. 
  Each successful attack also inflicts an extra 1d6 points 
  of damage from the flames that surround the creature. If 
  the heat stalker successfully hits with its tail, then it 
  holds the victim fast, and to break free the victim must 
  make a successful Open Doors roll vs. a locked door. 
  However, there is only a 10% chance that a heat stalker 
  pins a victim’s arms, so the victim can usually still 
  attack the creature, with a +1 bonus due to proximity. 
  Of course, while constricted the victim automatically 
  suffers 3d6 damage per round from the flames and 
  constriction. Whether or not the heat stalker chooses to 
  attack with its claws (inflicting another 1d4 and 1d6 
  points of damage upon a successful hit with a +2 
  bonus) or whether the creature chooses to attack 
  another person is up to the DM. 
  These corrupted elementals also have a draining 
  ability. Three times per day, they can unleash a wave of 
  heat that inflicts 1d6 points of damage againsgt 
  themselves. This heat wave also causes living creatures’ 
  bodies to start to sweat, generating more body heat for 
  the increased activity. This causes a sort of feedback 
  that the heat stalker hopes to pick up on. All living 
  creatures within thirty feet must save vs. breath 
  weapon. Those that succeed avoid the powers of the 
  creature, but those that fail lose 1d10 hp in heat loss 
  from the draining of the heat stalker. 
  Heat stalkers can only be harmed by magical 
  weapons or spells, or by creatures with at least 4+1 Hit 
  Dice. Being skeletal, they suffer only half damage from 
  slashing and piercing weapons. By their nature, they are 
  immune to sleep, charm, and hold spells. However, it is 
  important to note that the heat stalker is not undead, 
  merely corrupted by the dark powers. Thus, not 
  everything that affects the undead will necessarily work 
  against them. Cold attacks inflict an extra 2 points of 
  damage per die. Fire attacks do no damage, but the heat 
  stalker feeds off of them, and will stand stunned for one 
  round after such an attack, basking in the brief moment 
  of ecstasy. 
  Heat stalkers are almost pitiful creatures. They 
  crave the warmth that they have lost in being drawn to 
  this realm, and in most places, the warmest things are 
  living creatures. Thus, they hunt the living, trying to 
  draw their warmth out of them through their draining 
  and through basic contact (which only provides very 
  fleeting sustenance). Some of these creatures have 
  found their way to very hot regions, such as the 
  Burning Peaks cluster and have survived there. There is 
  even a story in Borca about one of these beasts invading 
  Lady Ivana’s hot springs and causing quite a lot of 
  distress with her ladyship until the creature was killed. 
  Pyre Wyrm 
  Climate/Terrain: 
  Any Ravenloft / Fires 
  Frequency: 
  Rare 
  Organization: 
  Solitary 
  Activity Cycle: 
  Any 
  Diet: 
  Burning Flesh 
  Intelligence: 
  Semi- (2–4) 
  Treasure: 
  Nil 
  Alignment: 
  Neutral (evil) 
  No. Appearing: 
  1 
  Armor Class: 
  7 
  Movement: 
  4 
  Hit Dice: 
  2 
  THAC0: 
  19 
  No. of Attacks: 
  1 
  Damage/Attack: 
  1d3 
  Special Attacks: 
  Paralyzation, Immolation 
  Special Defenses: 
  Immune to fire 
  Magic Resistance: 
  Nil 
  Size: 
  S (2’–3’ long) 
  Morale: 
  Steady (11) 
  XP Value: 
  420 
  Pyre wyrms are the corrupted forms of the fire 
  snake, a creature from the Elemental Plane of Fire. 
  Their appearance has changed to match their names, 
  they appear as disgusting blackened worms, with shiny 
  skin and large lamprey-like mouths at one end. Even 
  though they have no eyes, they seem to have no trouble 
  seeking out their prey. 
  When brought to the Demiplane (a rare occurrence) 
  pyre wyrms must make an immediate save vs. 
  paralyzation or go mad. 
  Pyre Wyrms attack by a simple bite, but the 
  repercussions of that attack can be devastating. First of 
  all, they retain their paralyzation venom, forcing those 
  bitten to save vs. poison or be paralyzed for 2d4 turns. 
  Secondly, those bitten must save vs. breath weapon or 
  the bitten area will begin to burn. This inflicts 1d6 
  points of damage the first round, and an additional 1d6 
  damage for each round of progression (up to a 
  maximum of 10d6 damage per round). Also, for every 
  d6 of damage, 10% of the victim’s body is assumed to 
  be on fire. If the victim is not paralyzed they may take 
  actions to douse the fire, and can also make a saving 
  throw vs. breath weapon each round to suffer only half 
  damage (should efforts to douse the fire prove 
  unsuccessful). However, victims who are paralyzed are 
  allowed neither luxury and suffer normal damage. 
  Being creatures of fire, pyre wyrms are completely 
  immune to any flame, whether it is magical or 
  otherwise. 
  To completely douse the fires (which are feeding 
  directly off the victim’s flesh) the burning area must be 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT THINGS 
  149 
  totally immersed in water or some other nonflammable 
  liquid. Rolling on the ground immediately erases 3d6 
  dice from the damage total, and every half-gallon of 
  water poured on the victim also removes 2d6 from the 
  damage total. Should the damage total be reduced to 0 
  or below, the fire is assumed to be extinguished. 
  Otherwise, it builds up again as normal on the next and 
  following rounds. 
  Pyre wyrms are one of the few elemental creatures 
  that may come to the Demiplane naturally. Their 
  original forms (fire snakes) are attracted to great heat 
  and bonfires, to they are usually found in such great 
  fires, most notably, funeral pyres or “witch burnings.” 
  When they come into the Demiplane on their own, they 
  are always corrupted by the dark powers. 
  There is a legend in Tepest that any foul wizard 
  can call these creatures into this world whenever he 
  wants. They often use them as a curse when they are 
  finally being punished by being burned at the stake. 
  However, this legend actually arose when an elven 
  mage from the northern Mistlands journeyed down to 
  Tepest and was captured and accused (and found 
  unlawfully guilty) of witchcraft. When she was burned 
  at the stake, she pronounced a curse upon the Inquisitor, 
  saying that even as the fire burned her, it would worm 
  and snake its tendrils to his heart and consume him as 
  well. The dark powers heard the curse and granted it 
  power, bringing pyre wyrms into Tepest. The creatures 
  promptly attacked and killed the Inquisitor and several 
  innocent bystanders before they were killed. 
  Pyre wyrms feed upon burning flesh. It does not 
  matter whether the flesh is a corpse on a pyre or 
  screaming and trying to escape. 
  Bloody Mary 
  Climate/Terrain: 
  Any Ravenloft / Water 
  Frequency: 
  Very Rare 
  Organization: 
  Solitary 
  Activity Cycle: 
  Any 
  Diet: 
  Nil 
  Intelligence: 
  Very (12) 
  Treasure: 
  Nil 
  Alignment: 
  Chaotic (25% Neutral, 75% Evil) 
  No. Appearing: 
  1 
  Armor Class: 
  10 
  Movement: 
  12, Swim 12 
  Hit Dice: 
  4 
  THAC0: 
  17 
  No. of Attacks: 
  1 
  Damage/Attack: 
  1 (fist) 
  Special Attacks: 
  See below 
  Special Defenses: 
  See below 
  Magic Resistance: 
  50% 
  Size: 
  M (4’–5’ tall) 
  Morale: 
  Steady (11) 
  XP Value: 
  4,000 
  The Bloody Mary is a corrupted form of the nereid 
  from the Elemental Plane of Water. While the nereid is 
  pleasing to look upon, the Bloody Mary is anything but. 
  In her natural form she is seen as a cloud of red in the 
  water, but a cloud that seems to hold itself together 
  despite the current and move of its own accord. 
  However, upon contact with air, the Bloody Mary 
  assumes the shape that earned her her name. She 
  appears as a beautiful woman with raven hair, bone-
  white skin, and dark hypnotic eyes. However, any 
  semblance of beauty ends there, as onlookers can 
  quickly see lines of red blood constantly flowing from 
  her eyes and the corners of her mouth, trickling down 
  her otherwise voluptuous body. 
  When summoned and corrupted, a Bloody Mary 
  make an immediate save vs. paralyzation or go mad. 
  Unlike the nereid, the Bloody Mary can only 
  assume one form, and that form is always the same 
  woman. Any male human, elf, half-elf, or half-Vistani 
  that sees the Bloody Mary in this form must 
  immediately make a horror check from the conflict of 
  beauty and horror, as well as a remnant of the nereid’s 
  power that tries to seduce the man. Females, of course, 
  are not subject to this effect. 
  The Bloody Mary retains many of the Nereid 
  abilities, albeit corrupted ones. She can now spit a 
  mouthful of blood at victims three times per day. This 
  blood burns like an acid when it hits organic matter, 
  causing 3d4 points of damage (halved with a successful 
  save vs. breath weapon). Also, she can control any type 
  of blood. If the blood is in a pool or otherwise lying 
  around, she can animate it as a snake-like creature that 
  has 4 HD, THAC0 17, and inflicts 1d4 points damage 
  per hit from weak acid and pummeling. However, most 
  of the time, the only blood in the area that the Bloody 
  Mary can control is that pumping inside her victims. All 
  of her blood control abilities can be used at will, but 
  only one effect can be active on a single victim at a 
  time. She may attack as many victims as she likes, and 
  each victim gets a saving throw vs. spell to avoid the 
  effect. If successful, the victim is immune to that effect 
  for 24 hours. All of the effects last for 4 rounds. 
  The Bloody Mary can slow the flow of blood in the 
  body, causing the victim to act as under a slow spell. 
  Or, if she chooses, she can speed up the flow, causing 
  the victim to make a System Shock roll each round or 
  pass out from the strain for 1d3 hours. Finally, if she is 
  truly angered, she may inflict her most devastating 
  attack. This takes the form of a heating of the blood, 
  causing the victim 2d10 damage each round (half with a 
  successful save vs. poison). For the Bloody Mary, she 
  really can make a man’s blood boil! 
  The Bloody Mary shares the nereid’s ability to 
  avoid all damage from an attack by flowing like liquid 
  with a successful save vs. poison. A kiss from her can 
  drown a man if he fails a saving throw vs. breath 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT THINGS 
  150 
  weapon with a –2 penalty. If he survives, however, an 
  immediate horror check with a –2 penalty is called for 
  as blood rushes into his mouth and pure evil flows into 
  his soul. 
  A Bloody Mary also has a unique defense ability, 
  similar to the phylactery of a lich or demon. The 
  creature keeps its life force in a ragged scarf that it 
  wears about its neck. If the Bloody Mary is ever 
  reduced to 0 hp, its essence retreats to the scarf. Then it 
  immediately looks for an amount of blood equal to that 
  inside a medium-sized human creature. (This is most 
  likely found inside a living human creature!) The 
  Bloody Mary then conducts a possession attack. This is 
  an all or nothing action, for if the attack fails, the 
  Bloody Mary perishes. If a victim fails a saving throw 
  vs. spell, then its blood is usurped by the Bloody Mary, 
  which then takes 24 hours to fully form itself. During 
  this time the victim is struck with incredible pain and 
  suffers 1 point of damage every two hours. Finally at 
  the end of the 24 hours, the Bloody Mary flows back 
  out of the victim, killing him or her utterly. An 
  interesting side effect is that if the victim is female, 
  then the Bloody Mary permanently assumes a likeness 
  of that woman. If the victim has the correct spells cast 
  upon him during the possession attempt, then he may be 
  saved from the affliction. A remove curse or 
  banishment spell forces the Bloody Mary back to her 
  scarf. Other spells have no effect, except for slow 
  poison (which causes the possession to begin anew in 
  24 hours) and cure disease or neutralize poison (both of 
  which kill the Bloody Mary if she fails a save vs. spell). 
  Note that if a Bloody Mary is somehow confined to 
  her scarf and the scarf is destroyed, then so is she. The 
  rag has no special immunities. 
  The first Bloody Mary was formed when an evil 
  wizard from Hazlan tried to summon a nereid to the 
  Demiplane. However, he was young and inexperienced, 
  and felt that he needed a sacrifice to appease the 
  creature, like it was some sort of demon. The girl that 
  he chose was a traveler from Mordent, named Mary. 
  The nereid was summoned in Mary’s blood, and arose 
  from he body. It went to great lengths after killing its 
  summoner to create a name for itself and its species. To 
  this day, its destruction has never been recorded, and it 
  may still haunt the waters of Hazlan. 
  Scarlet Stream 
  Climate/Terrain: 
  Any Ravenloft Water 
  Frequency: 
  Very Rare 
  Organization: 
  Solitary 
  Activity Cycle: 
  Always 
  Diet: 
  Blood 
  Intelligence: 
  Average (8–10) 
  Treasure: 
  Nil 
  Alignment: 
  Chaotic Evil 
  No. Appearing: 
  1 
  Armor Class: 
  4 
  Movement: 
  12 
  Hit Dice: 
  3+3 
  THAC0: 
  15 
  No. of Attacks: 
  1 
  Damage/Attack: 
  Nil 
  Special Attacks: 
  Blood Possession 
  Special Defenses: 
  See below 
  Magic Resistance: 
  Nil 
  Size: 
  L (10’ long) 
  Morale: 
  Elite (13) 
  XP Value: 
  650 
  The scarlet stream is the corrupted form of the 
  water weird. Of all the corrupted elemental-kin, the 
  scarlet stream has the least change in appearance. It 
  retains its shape and form, the only change being that 
  the creature is now composed of blood instead of water. 
  Still, this is enough of a change to mentally test the 
  creature, and it must make the standard save vs. 
  paralyzation upon being summoned or go mad. 
  The scarlet stream attacks by possession. It has no 
  innate damaging attacks unless it is inside a host. Thus, 
  the first thing the creature attempts to do is to possess a 
  living creature’s blood. It does this by rearing back and 
  then darting forward like the snake it appears to be, 
  aiming straight for the victim’s chest. If successful, then 
  the victim must save vs. spell. If the save succeeds, then 
  the victim takes no damage, and the scarlet stream rears 
  back, making an angry bubbling sound. But if the save 
  is failed, then the blood of the stream flies over the 
  victim exploding in droplets, coating the victim and 
  anyone standing nearby. The spirit of the elemental-kin 
  however, is now in the victim’s heart, and it soon exerts 
  its control over the victim by controlling his or her 
  actions. 
  A victim with a scarlet stream inside him must 
  make a System Shock roll every turn. Success means 
  the victim can act normally for that period. Once the 
  victim fails a roll, however, the scarlet stream takes 
  over until it is excised by magic. While under control 
  the victim acts woodenly, like a puppet, but can 
  perform actions well enough to warrant no penalties. 
  The scarlet stream cannot cast spells or use mental 
  abilities or knowledge, and it always attacks only once 
  per round with a THAC0 of 15. It does, however, 
  receive any Strength bonuses, Armor Class, Movement 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT THINGS 
  151 
  rate, and hit points of its victim’s body. Any attacks 
  aimed at the possessed victim inflict normal damage 
  upon the hapless soul, but do no harm to the stream. If 
  the victim is killed, the stream can only lay inside the 
  body for a maximum of an hour before it must emerge. 
  A scarlet stream can be excised from a body 
  through the use of a remove curse, banishment, or 
  similar spell. Cure spells have no special effect upon 
  the creature, however. If the creature is excised from a 
  body, then its spirit seeks out the nearest amount of 
  blood that it can inhabit that resides outside of a living 
  body. The scarlet stream cannot cross a closed domain 
  border, but otherwise will keep searching until it finds a 
  suitable body (usually in a nearby fresh corpse) or until 
  four hours have passed. If such time passes, then the 
  creature’s spirit is consumed by the Mists (and may 
  become a mist horror). 
  In its normal form, a scarlet stream suffers only 1 
  point of damage from piercing and slashing weapons 
  and half damage from fire (none with a successful 
  saving throw). Any sort of cold spell acts as a slow spell 
  upon the creature instead of inflicting damage. 
  However, being composed of blood, the purify water 
  spell has no effect upon a scarlet stream. If a scarlet 
  stream touches a blood elemental, then it has a 25% 
  chance of melding with it and taking control of the 
  creature. 
  ! 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT THINGS 
  152 
  SPITTING COBRA 
  A Lycanthrope with Lethal Aim 
  by Robert A. Gombach 
  robagom@cc.usu.edu 
   
  Author’s Note: The were-spitting cobra is a variant of 
  Daniel Bandera’s were-king cobra that appeared in The 
  Book of Secrets netbook. 
  Were-spitting Cobra 
  Climate/Terrain 
  Desert 
  Frequency 
  Very rare 
  Organization 
  Solitary 
  Activity Cycle 
  Night 
  Diet 
  Carnivore 
  Intelligence 
  High 
  Treasure 
  M 
  Alignment 
  Any evil 
  No. Appearing 
  1 
  Armor Class 
  4 
  Movement 
  12, Sw 12 
  Hit Dice 
  5 
  THAC0 
  15 
  No. of Attacks 
  1 
  Damage/Attack 
  1d4+1 
  Special Attacks 
  Poison (spit or bite) 
  Special Defenses 
  Hit only by +1 or better or ivory 
  weapons, feign death 
  Magic Resistance 
  Nil 
  Size 
  L 8’ (secondary aspect) 
  M 7’–8’ (tertiary aspect) 
  Morale 
  12 
  XP Value 
  650 
  his variety of werecobra is a human that is 
  able to transform into a spitting cobra. In its 
  secondary aspect, the were-spitting cobra 
  appears as an eight-foot-long slender 
  serpent. It ranges in color from dull black to pink; with 
  the lighter-colored snakes having a black band around 
  their necks. Traits of albinism have also been 
  expressed, but this is rare. The spitting cobra is so 
  named because of its ability to spit venom into the eyes 
  of its opponents and blind them. Like the king cobra, 
  the spitting cobra’s bite is venomous. 
  In their primary aspect were-spitting cobras appear 
  as a dark-skinned human. They are of average human 
  height and approximately 10–15 pounds lighter than 
  average. When talking, whether in human or hybrid 
  form, the creatures speak with a hissing lisp. Because 
  the were-spitting cobra lives in a hot, arid, desert 
  climate, its clothing is loose-fitting and scant.  
  In its tertiary aspect, the were-spitting cobra’s 
  hybrid form, it stands approximately 7 1/2’ tall. Its 
  hairless body is covered with scales that are the same 
  color as those in its secondary aspect. From its lower 
  back extends a two-foot-long tail, and its tongue forks 
  and doubles in length. 
  Combat 
  In its human form the were-spitting cobra can use any 
  available weapons, but prefers to use daggers and short 
  swords. If the were-spitting cobra is attacked during 
  daylight hours it will almost always remain human. The 
  were-spitting cobra will only change forms if it is in 
  danger of being killed. In its secondary and tertiary 
  aspects the were-spitting cobra will attack by spitting its 
  venom into the face of its opponent. The were-spitting 
  cobra is extremely accurate at spitting venom and 
  makes all such attack rolls with a +2 bonus. The range 
  for such attacks is 30 feet. If a successful hit is made, 
  then the victim must save vs. poison or be blinded for 
  2–12 hours. Due to the caustic nature of the venom, the 
  victim has a percentage chance equal to the number of 
  hours they spend in blindness to be infected with 
  lycanthropy. The were-spitting cobra is also capable of 
  delivering a venomous bite to opponents. If bitten by 
  the were-spitting cobra, the victim must save vs. poison 
  or die in 1d6+4 rounds. However, if the victim fails the 
  save vs. poison by 4 or less on the d20 roll they do not 
  die. Instead of death, they experience excruciating pain 
  and discomfort over the next few days (the amount they 
  failed the save vs. poison by determines the exact 
  number of days) before what seems to be a complete 
  and miraculous recovery. 
  Recovery, however, is not complete, nor is it 
  miraculous, because the victim has been infected with 
  lycanthropy. If the victim’s save vs. poison is 
  successful, the victim still receives 1d4+1 points of 
  T 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT THINGS 
  153 
  damage and has a 1% chance per point of damage to 
  become a were-spitting cobra. 
  While a formidable opponent in combat, the were-
  spitting cobra prefers to rely on stealth and its 
  treacherous nature to defeat enemies. It is capable of 
  sneaking up on prey at a –3 to its opponents’ surprise 
  rolls. 
  Only magical weapons of at least +1 enchantment 
  or those made of ivory can harm this species of 
  werecobra. While in its secondary or tertiary aspects, 
  the spitting cobra has the ability to feign death as per 
  the 3rd level wizard spell. However, because this ability 
  is a biological ability, a Ravenloft powers check is not 
  required. Those who are familiar with lycanthropes may 
  be astute enough to realize what is happening, because 
  if a were-spitting cobra actually dies, rather than using 
  its ability to feign death, it reverts to its human form in 
  one round. 
  Habitat/Society 
  In the Ravenloft setting the were-spitting cobra is native 
  to Har’Akir and Sebua, with some migrating to 
  Pharazia. Were-spitting cobras are solitary creatures, 
  preferring to dwell away from both humankind and 
  others of their species. Were-spitting cobras are 
  primarily nocturnal, and because of this, they often find 
  employment as thieves, spies, or assassins. As thieves, 
  were-spitting cobras are not limited in the level of 
  advancement they can attain. Their evil nature also 
  draws some to serve as priests in one of the various evil 
  cults found in the Demiplane of Dread. Such priests can 
  advance to 12th level in ability. 
  Ecology 
  Because of their solitary nature, little is known about 
  the ecology of this creature. It is possible, however, that 
  a study of non-lycanthropic spitting cobras would 
  reveal some insights into the ecology of the were-
  spitting cobras. 
  ! 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT THINGS 
  154 
  INFESTATION 
  Two Creepy-Crawlies to Get Under Your Skin 
  by Wes Schneider 
  Dendread@home.com 
   
  INTRODUCTION 
  ithin the Misty Borders of Ravenloft every 
  wicked emotion and corrupt passion is 
  cultivated to an extent seen few other places 
  in creation. The darkest aspects of mortal 
  existence are exposed, and unspeakable horrors are 
  given both monstrous forms and earthly disguises. In 
  this place, evil is constant, as subtle as air, and like 
  vapor it saturates and warps nearly every facet of the 
  world it permeates. This corruptive influence drives 
  men to desperate, wicked actions and even perverts 
  nature itself into a fearful enemy. As such, even the 
  most insignificant beings are given the potential for 
  depraved action and can become true afflictions upon 
  the inhabitants of the lands. 
  Following are two of the smallest terrors known to 
  inhabit the Demiplane of Dread: insects with such 
  fearful abilities and tendencies that even brave men 
  dread an infestation of these “natural” horrors. 
  Devouring Spiders 
  Climate/Terrain 
  Any non-artic land 
  Frequency 
  Very rare 
  Organization 
  Solitary 
  Activity Cycle 
  Any 
  Diet 
  Carnivore 
  Intelligence 
  Animal (1) 
  Treasure 
  Nil 
  Alignment 
  Neutral 
  No. Appearing 
  1–12 
  Armor Class 
  4 
  Movement 
  10 
  Hit Dice 
  1 hp 
  THAC0 
  20 
  No. of Attacks 
  1 
  Damage/Attack 
  1 
  Special Attacks 
  See below 
  Special Defenses 
  Nil 
  Magical Resistance 
  Nil 
  Size 
  T (1” or less) 
  Morale 
  Unreliable (2–4) 
  XP Value 
  120 
  From time to time hunters and trappers of the Core 
  report acres of forests, abundant with game the previous 
  year, as being devoid of all life the following season. 
  Also, some caravans have passed through small 
  villages, eager to trade with the locals, only to find the 
  town’s entire population left as tattered corpses. Many 
  chalk these events up to rumor and exaggeration, or 
  even the strange nature of the realms in which they live. 
  But a more educated listener recognizes these stories as 
  detailing the effects of an infestation of tiny fiends 
  known as devouring spiders. 
  Named for both their taste for flesh and the means 
  in which hosts contract them, these creatures are as at 
  home in urban settings as in the densest woodlands. 
  Though they are no larger than the nail on a man’s 
  smallest finger they are highly visible, their 
  exoskeletons glimmer a deep crimson, a color as red as 
  the blood spilt in each tiny creature’s birthing. Despite 
  their size, these creatures number among the most 
  dreaded insects to roam the core because of their 
  instinctual cunning, making them brutal hunters. And as 
  all good hunters know, prey is best caught when it is at 
  its weakest, and when is any creature weaker than when 
  it sleeps. 
  Combat 
  Due to their tiny size, devouring spiders are nearly 
  helpless in combat with larger creatures that are aware 
  of their presence. As such, most of the tactics these 
  spiders use rely on ambush and surprise. The only 
  advantage a devouring spider gains in combat is its 
  paralyzing bite and the numbing touch of its steps. 
  Though small, the jaws of a devouring spider are 
  coated with a potent poison; thus anyone bitten by one 
  of these creatures will have the area ten inches around 
  the wound go numb for 1d4 turns (no saving throw). 
  The tips of the spider’s legs also secrete a similar but 
  weaker poison, allowing them to walk over bare flesh 
  without being detected. 
  The reason devouring spiders are so feared is 
  because of the way in which they incubate their young. 
  W 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT THINGS 
  155 
  Using a fine silken webbing these spiders descend from 
  overhanging branches or ceilings onto the face of their 
  sleeping victim. Entering through the mouth or nose the 
  parent spider crawls into the throat, a place behind a 
  man’s Adam’s apple on humans, and gnaws a small 
  hole into the tender internal flesh. Into this hole the 
  parent lays ten to twelve eggs, then gaining a powerful 
  grip on the surrounding skin, covers the hole with its 
  body and dies. Due to the spider’s paralyzing bite the 
  victim never feels the insidious attack, but will wake 
  the next morning with a sore throat and seemingly 
  strained vocal chords. 
  Two days later the eggs will hatch and the young 
  will begin feasting on the soft tissue around the throat 
  but will avoid the skin’s surface. During this time the 
  victim will have his voice weaken to little more then a 
  raspy gasping. After the fifth day the devouring spiders 
  will lay in wait for the vibrations of the vocal cords to 
  be in use, usually caused by speech or even snoring. At 
  this point the young act as one, simultaneously opening 
  a passage to the skin’s surface and gnawing into the 
  major veins of the neck. The result is a particularly 
  gruesome eruption that not only sends the host to his 
  untimely demise, but surprises anyone nearby to such a 
  point that they rarely notice the small red spiders 
  blending into the spray of blood they’ve been soaked in. 
  From this point, each young spider clings to or finds a 
  host and repeats the gory reproduction process. 
  Those infested by a clutch of devouring spiders 
  have little hope of surviving. Only the most difficult 
  and dangerous medical procedures may extract the 
  infant spiders, and have just as much chance of killing 
  the host as removing the danger. The potent clerical 
  healing spells such as remove disease or heal are 
  perhaps the safest way to save an infested host. 
  Habitat/Society 
  Devouring spiders can be found anywhere there is an 
  abundance of warm-blooded creatures to hunt. Only the 
  most severe conditions deter these voracious arachnids, 
  otherwise they prosper anywhere other breeds of spider 
  would. 
  Perhaps the devouring spider’s greatest weakness 
  is its short lifespan. In general these creatures will not 
  live for more then eight days, including the time spent 
  inside a host (two days of incubation, four days feeding, 
  two days hunting). Once these spiders exit a host they 
  must find another within forty-eight hours and lay their 
  own clutch of eggs or simply shrivel and die. This 
  comes as both a blessing and a horror to those forced to 
  deal with an infestation of these tiny monsters. If action 
  is taken to end these creatures’ threat, assurance of 
  one’s success or failure will be obvious in mere days. 
  However, areas unequipped to handle such a threat are 
  forced to deal with a plague of deadly insects that 
  multiplies both exponentially and frequently. 
  Ecology 
  Devouring spiders are a scourge upon whatever land 
  they come to inhabit. They will brutally kill all life in 
  an area with no regard for future generations of even 
  their own species. As such they will wipe out all 
  creatures for literally miles around, then either die off 
  or move on to where they continue their purely 
  destructive existence, blood-red viruses upon the land. 
  Adventure Ideas 
  # A brutal series of gruesome killings has the 
  populace terrified and local investigators baffled. 
  Several of the killings have happened behind 
  locked doors and within seemingly unreachable 
  rooms. Its up to the PCs to put a stop to the killer’s 
  rampage, their only clue being a single tiny red 
  spider found at the seen of one of the crimes. 
  # A haggard figure staggers into town and collapses, 
  obviously suffering from exhaustion and the 
  hazards of days on the road. When he is revived he 
  cannot speak, making only unintelligible gasps, 
  and clutches his throat, obviously pained. Without 
  aid he dies spectacularly, his neck tearing open in a 
  rain of blood. Days later several other members of 
  the town are afflicted with a loss of voice. It falls 
  on the PCs to find the source of this “disease” and 
  cure it. 
  # As an added terror to his already deadly menagerie 
  of traps, a local villain has cultivated several 
  devouring spiders. In certain places gouts of blood 
  spray from the walls, floors, or trickle from the 
  ceiling, seeming to pose only psychological 
  danger, but hiding a much subtler menace. 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT THINGS 
  156 
  Plague Moths 
  Climate/Terrain 
  Any non-artic land 
  Frequency 
  Rare 
  Organization 
  Solitary 
  Activity Cycle 
  Any 
  Diet 
  Herbivore 
  Intelligence 
  Animal (1) 
  Treasure 
  Nil 
  Alignment 
  Neutral 
  No. Appearing 
  1–5 
  Armor Class 
  6 
  Movement 
  1, Fl 18 (B) 
  Hit Dice 
  1 hp 
  THAC0 
  20 
  No. of Attacks 
  Nil 
  Damage/Attack 
  Nil 
  Special Attacks 
  See below 
  Special Defenses 
  Nil 
  Magic Resistance 
  Nil 
  Size 
  T (1” or less) 
  Morale 
  Unreliable (2–4) 
  XP Value 
  65 
  Due to their colorful wings and benign, even 
  graceful demeanor, butterflies and their nighttime 
  counterparts, moths, are among what many find to be 
  the only tolerable, even likeable members of the insect 
  species. However, the mists of Ravenloft have found a 
  way to warp even these docile creatures into life 
  threatening dangers. 
  The plague moth is the name given to a breed of 
  both moth and butterfly that has wreaked havoc on 
  nearly every human settlement they come to infest. 
  Members of these strains of insect have lost their 
  natural gay colorings. Gone are the bright yellows and 
  shimmering whites of these creature’s normal wings, 
  replaced instead by a dull tan or brown, dotted with 
  streaks of crimson. Many examiners have compared the 
  plague moth’s coloring to that of a disease victim’s 
  handkerchief or bed linens, the fabric dulled and dirtied, 
  flecked with the bloody symptoms of illness. Besides 
  their abnormal wing color, the anatomy of the plague 
  moth resembles their docile relatives perfectly . . . 
  except for the one flaw which makes them so 
  threatening. 
  Combat 
  Plague moths have no real attacks, they have no sizable 
  claws or teeth, they inject no venom, and they have no 
  magical abilities. As such these creatures are about as 
  dangerous in battle as a normal moth or butterfly. 
  Habitat/Society 
  Plague moths inhabit the same lands as their normal 
  cousins; from jungle to forest these creatures are an 
  unusual but present threat in all but the harshest of 
  environments. 
  The strange coloration of the plague moth serves it 
  as a means of camouflage allowing it to blend with the 
  filth and refuse of both natural and urban environments. 
  In order to make full use of their coloration, plague 
  moths are drawn to the beds of the diseased, the most 
  putrid refuse, and other areas and conditions prime for 
  their namesake threat. 
  Like normal members of their species, plague 
  moths have no real society. Besides birth and mating 
  these insects have few dealings with members of their 
  species. In fact, while not performing these activities, 
  plague moths will actively avoid one another so not to 
  fall victim to the dangers their kin might possess. 
  Ecology 
  The one thing that makes a plague moth so threatening 
  to all other life is a simple and unique genetic flaw. 
  Plague moths have no natural immune system and as 
  such have a high chance of contracting disease. 
  Commonly this would be no threat to humanoids or 
  other animals, but plague moths seem highly 
  susceptible not just to the illnesses of their own species, 
  but also to those of other species. As such, the plague 
  moth becomes a threat to all creatures as it may carry 
  any disease, natural or magical, and easily pass it on 
  wherever it travels. 
  The plague moth gains its name from its ability to 
  spread even the simplest and easiest contained malady 
  into a full spread plague in a matter of days. If a single 
  plague moth is able to contract an infectious disease it 
  will carry it with it for as long as it survives, usually 
  only a matter of days or hours, but still long enough to 
  land on food, clothing, and others capable of 
  contracting the illness. A plague moth will often live on 
  even after a victim of sickness has died and the most 
  extreme measures are taken to eradicate the disease, 
  allowing the infection to mysteriously reemerge 
  elsewhere in the area. 
  All plague moths have a 70% chance of being 
  carriers of a potentially contagious disease, as such all 
  who come into physical contact with an infected moth 
  must make a save vs. poison or contract a disease of the 
  DM’s selection. But actual contact with the carrier 
  insect is not necessary to contract many diseases. There 
  is a 20% chance that any who touch an area that a 
  plague moth has landed on will have to make a save, 
  like the one above, or become infected in the same 
  manner. Surfaces touched by a plague moth will 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT THINGS 
  157 
  commonly remain infected either for one day or until 
  the area has been thoroughly cleaned. 
  A plague moth rarely transmits diseases that rely 
  on blood transfusion, though it is possible, say if one 
  ingests the carrying moth. Many magical diseases may 
  also affect and be passed on by plague moths, such as 
  mummy rot, all magical viruses, and even lycanthropy 
  if the moth is somehow exposed to infected blood. 
  Plague moths are a curse to healers and doctors 
  throughout the lands they infest. Caretakers of the ill 
  find their workloads exploding with new cases, the 
  threat of mass hysteria growing hourly, and death tolls 
  rising. Worst of all, once the danger seems contained or 
  eradicated, a new series of infections may mysteriously 
  crop up in a mere matter of days. Countless deaths and 
  the blighting of whole areas fall to the incidental 
  passing of the seemingly harmless plague moth, 
  perhaps the smallest of pestilence’s harbingers. 
  Adventure Ideas 
  # What is usually an easily treated and uncommon 
  illness has exploded into a full-fledged epidemic in 
  one part of the city. PCs become trapped within a 
  quarantined area and must use their skills to try and 
  aid the baffled local healers. As they help, they find 
  that more then one household has a strange 
  problem with an unusual strain of moth. 
  # A devious nobleman has decided to change his 
  fortunes by removing many of his opponents. 
  Several of his enemies have received packages 
  from him, seemingly peace offerings, only to turn 
  up dead of a strange disease days later. An 
  observant opponent notices this pattern and hires 
  the PCs to protect him and find out how the others 
  have been killed. Once the PCs find one of these 
  deadly packages they find that it holds not only a 
  gift, but is also a transport for a single strangely 
  colored moth. 
  # A villain with a deep hatred of a city that scorned 
  him wants revenge. The PCs find several of his 
  henchmen smuggling packages and crates of 
  strange moths into the area. They must find the 
  destination of these deadly insects before hundreds 
  of them are infected with a terrible disease and set 
  free all across the city. 
  ! 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT THINGS 
  158 
  WITCH RITUAL TOOLS 
  The Regalia of Hala’s Chosen 
  by Timothy S. Brannan 
  tbrannan@usa.net 
   
  INTRODUCTION 
  he witches described herein refer the 
  witches and warlocks from Van Richten’s 
  Monster Hunter’s Compendium Volume 
  Three. These rules can also be used for the 
  “sorcerer” witches described in The Complete Wizard’s 
  Handbook, PLAYER’S OPTION: Spells & Magic, or any 
  spellcaster that specializes in witch magic described in 
  the Wizard’s Spell Compendiums Volumes 1–4. Unless 
  a distinction needs to be made the generic “witch” will 
  be used to describe any or all of the spell casters known 
  as witches. 
  Creating a Witch Spell Focus 
  According to the information presented in Van 
  Richten’s Monster Hunter’s Compendium Volume 
  Three, a witch is required to create a spell focus in 
  order to use her magical powers. While that work 
  describes a few possibilities, it only mentions that the 
  focus should be durable (wood, stone, metal, crystal, 
  glass or a combination of these items) and at least 
  portable; i.e. not a dwelling.  
  Most, if not all, witches depend on tools, both 
  mundane and magical. A spell focus can be made from 
  the witch’s assortment of Ritual Tools or Other Tools. 
  In any case the witch can own and use as many 
  mundane tools as she needs or can afford. Witches are 
  expected to treat their spell focus and other ritual tools 
  with the utmost care. These items do not provide the 
  witch with power, but only allow them to focus the 
  energies of their goddess and the Weave. Without her 
  spell focus a witch cannot cast spells. 
  Ritual Tools 
  Witches rarely accomplish their goals with magic alone. 
  Certain tools are used in witchcraft for ritual purposes, 
  such as to invoke Hala, banish evil influences and 
  create magical circles. Tools are simply a way to direct 
  and focus energy for magical workings. They have no 
  power except for what the witch gives them. Tools 
  should be consecrated, or cleansed, before use, to clear 
  them of any lingering negative energies. 
  Knife 
  Magical knives are commonly used in witchcraft. They 
  are never used for cutting purposes, or for any purposes 
  outside the coven or spellwork. The knife is used in 
  rituals to direct energy and is an instrument of power 
  and manipulation. The blade is often dull and double-
  edged and the handle is black or some other dark color 
  to absorb power. They are very fine quality and most 
  witches will have them crafted to his or her exact 
  specifications. Normal or magical knives, daggers or 
  swords created for combat cannot be used.  
  Most witches own their own ritual blade, but it is 
  never used for combat or for any other but ceremonial 
  purposes. The knife will have the witch’s personal 
  symbol of power and that of the coven engraved 
  somewhere on the handle. 
  Many witches becomes very attached to their ritual 
  blades. Since these knives are used in many of the 
  witch’s magical rituals it begins to absorb a bit of 
  magical energy. A witch can always locate his or her 
  ritual knife as if it had a permanent locate object spell 
  cast on it. Also, due to its magical focusing power, the 
  blade cannot rust and makes saving throws as if it were 
  a +1 dagger of fine quality. 
  The ritual knife is the tool of the East and is 
  associated with the element of Air. In some traditions it 
  is the tool of Fire.  
  Some witches have taken to using a specialized 
  white knife for practical purposes. It has a sharp, 
  usually crescent-shaped blade, and is used as a normal 
  knife or dagger. It is also used in rituals, but it is kept 
  separate from the ritual knife. Losing one’s working 
  blade can be an inconvenience, but is seldom 
  worrisome. 
  T 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT THINGS 
  159 
  Broom 
  The broom often is used to purify space before a spell is 
  cast. It is related to the element of Water and is used in 
  many water spells involving cleansing. Some witches 
  have used brooms to ritually protect their homes by 
  laying it across the door. 
  To make a magic broom, a witch should use an ash 
  staff, birch twigs and a willow binding. Ash is 
  protective, birch cleansing and willow sacred to the 
  goddess Hala. The coven would use woods or elements 
  sacred to their god a goddess. 
  The broom is associated with Water and is sacred 
  to the Goddess Hala. Unlike the ritual knife, the broom 
  can be used for mundane purposes. 
  Cauldron 
  Nothing conjures up the stereotypical image of a witch 
  better than a cauldron. The cauldron is a symbol of the 
  goddess Hala and corresponds to the element of Water. 
  It is used in rituals as a container in which magical 
  transformations can occur and is often the focal point of 
  a ritual. During spring rites, it can be filled with water 
  and fresh flower petals and in winter, fires can be 
  lighted within the cauldron to symbolize the rebirth of 
  the Sun. It can also be filled with water and used for 
  scrying into the future. Cauldrons often are three-legged 
  and made of iron. They come in all sizes ranging from a 
  few inches in diameter to several feet across. 
  The cauldron is the tool of the West and is 
  associated with Water. The cauldron is feminine in 
  nature and represents fertility and femininity. Unlike 
  some of ritualistic items, the cauldron can be used for 
  mundane matters as well. 
  A cauldron spell focus is good for a non-
  adventuring witch, but a mobile witch may prefer 
  something a bit more practical. 
  Censer 
  The censer, or incense burner, represents the element of 
  Air. It can be a big, swinging metal contraption like 
  those used in churches or a small wooden stick incense 
  holder, whichever the coven requires. The use of both 
  the stick holders and the metal ones for powdered 
  incense is fairly common. 
  If a witch cannot find a suitable censer, a bowl 
  filled with sand or salt works fine. The sand or salt 
  absorbs the heat from the charcoal, or incense sticks or 
  cones can be pushed into it. Many witches find that 
  incense greatly increases their concentration and is 
  especially useful in meditations or scrying. The censer 
  is a tool of the element Air. To be used as a spell focus 
  the incense in the censer needs to be lit. 
  Chalice 
  The altar chalice symbolizes fertility and is related to 
  the element of Water. 
  They are generally used to hold the ritual wine that 
  is imbibed at the end of some rituals, but it can also be 
  used for holding water for scrying or other ritual 
  purposes. The chalice can be made out of any 
  substance, from silver or brass to wood or soapstone. 
  When not in use the chalice should be stored away for 
  safekeeping or displayed on the witch’s altar. 
  Some legends state that a normal human can gain 
  magical power by drinking holy water, blood, or nearly 
  anything from a witch chalice. These are generally 
  rumors. 
  The chalice is also a symbol of water and 
  represents the Goddess Hala, fertility and femininity. 
  The chalice is often used as a portable cauldron.  
  Pentacle 
  Of all the symbols and tools used in witchcraft, this is 
  probably the most misunderstood, due to its extensive 
  use in the dark arts. The pentacle is usually a flat piece 
  of metal or wood inscribed with a pentagram, a five-
  pointed star. When making a metal pentacle, gold or 
  brass is often preferred.  
  The pentacle came from ceremonial magic and has 
  been used in ritual and magic for thousands of years. It 
  is used to represent feminine energy and to consecrate 
  objects such as amulets and charms. The pentacle is 
  also a traditional symbol of protection and is one of the 
  official symbols of many witch traditions. 
  The pentacle is the tool of the North and is 
  associated with Earth. The pentacle, as used by good 
  witches, has a single point of the star pointing up, 
  which is not to be confused with the version commonly 
  associated with demonic summoning rituals, which is 
  inverted (two points up). 
  Wand 
  The wand, an instrument of invocation, is more than 
  familiar to most spellcasters. In the Hala tradition, the 
  wand corresponds to the element of Air. It is sometimes 
  used to direct energy, to scratch magical symbols in the 
  ground or to stir the contents of a cauldron. Woods such 
  as willow, elder, oak, hazel and apple are traditionally 
  used for the wand, but any fairly straight piece of wood 
  can work. Many witches carve special symbols into the 
  wood to personalize the wand. It is not uncommon for 
  witches to craft some truly beautiful wands from crystal 
  with gems and stones set into them. 
  These wands are normally mundane with only a 
  trace amount of a magical aura. As the witch progresses 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT THINGS 
  160 
  in power she opt to enchant her wand in some manner. 
  Any wand found on a witch has a 3% chance per level 
  of the witch of being enchanted to some degree. 
  The ritual wand is used mostly to invoke the 
  Goddess Hala, direct energy, and to charge other 
  objects. It is used to draw symbols on the ground and 
  even to stir the cauldron. 
  The wand is also a tool of the South and is 
  associated with Air. In some traditions it is the tool of 
  Fire. 
  A wand used for a spell focus cannot be of the 
  magical variety. The wand must be new and unused for 
  any other function. A witch may add magical properties 
  to it later if she wishes. 
  Other Tools 
  These are some of the other tools that are used by 
  witches. For a few of these tools it is believed by some 
  that they are a direct result of the persecution of witches 
  over the centuries. Take the sword, for example. A 
  sword is long, cumbersome, and very visible. In some 
  lands, most notoriously Tepest, the whether or not a 
  suspected witch is carrying a sword can make the 
  difference between harassment and arrest. Some believe 
  that dark-handled ritual knife has become common to 
  avoid just this problem; for even peasants in Falkovnia 
  can carry daggers. The same applies to the staff. The 
  staff is several feet high and again, very visible. Some 
  believe the wand is a direct result of “shrinking” the 
  staff to a stick, something that could be found in every 
  home in one form or another. 
  Bell 
  The bell is used for summoning spirits and for starting 
  vibrations. Bells can either be rung by the witch or by 
  the spirits she summons. It is believed that spirits and 
  fairies will ring bells when they enter a room. Bells are 
  rung to ward of bad spirits or to signify the beginning 
  or end of a ritual. 
  The bell is a feminine symbol and is often used for 
  beckoning signs from the Goddess Hala. 
  Staff 
  Another commonly known magical item, the staff 
  directly relates to the wand and has the same attributes 
  and uses. Witches use staves very frequently. Staves are 
  generally considered to be the tools of mages and 
  wizards. 
  Stone 
  The stone is used in much the same way as the pentacle 
  and relates to it in many ways. It is a tool of the North 
  and represents the Earth. Again, the stone is another 
  tool that is often thought to be a trade-off for many 
  witches. Where a pentacle may be interpreted as an evil 
  symbol, even by well-meaning adventurers, just about 
  everyone has rocks lying around in some form or 
  another.  
  Sword 
  The sword directly relates to the ritual dagger and has 
  the same attributes and uses. The sword is used by 
  many witches in ritual and magic. Like the ritual 
  dagger, the sword must be dull and never used for 
  combat purposes. 
  1st Level Witch Spell (Wizard or Priest) 
  Rite of Consecrate Ritual Tool  
  (Invocation/Evocation) 
  Sphere: Witches* (All or High Secret Order) 
  Range: Touch 
  Components: V, S, M 
  Duration: Permanent 
  Casting Time: 1 round 
  Area of Effect: 1 tool 
  Saving Throw: None 
  This spell is granted to anyone who uses witch spells. 
  This spell is free to the witches of the Church of Hala. 
  Other witches (sorcerers, or other kits) must gain this 
  spell as normal. This rite prepares the witch’s tools 
  (cauldron, broom, pentacle or wand) for rituals. Until 
  consecrated the tool is unsuitable for magical rites. This 
  spell only needs to be cast once per tool. The tool will 
  radiate a faint aura of magic, but it will not be magical 
  itself. This spell attunes the tool to the caster. 
  As with many witch spells, this spell may only be 
  cast during particular times of the year. Typically these 
  are holy or high days or during a certain phase of the 
  moon. If the witch loses her tool she must recover it or 
  wait till the next occurrence of the special date to 
  consecrate another one. Until that time she may not be 
  able to cast spells or to participate in some ceremonies. 
  The material components for this spell are the 
  witch’s tool, which is not consumed, and special oil, 
  which is. 
  The exact nature of the item’s consecration will 
  vary by witch tradition. For example, witches of Hala 
  must meditate for three days with the tool; the spell is 
  only cast at the end of this ritual. Witches of Hala also 
  infuse the item with their own life force, represented by 
  a loss of 1,000 experience points. 
  ! 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT THINGS 
  161 
  THE MASK OF 
  SORROWFUL BEAUTY 
  A Dangerous Way to Be One of the Beautiful People 
  by Luiz Eduardo Neves Peret 
  rakshasa2001@hotmail.com 
   
  “I shall not be dark, but beautiful and 
  terrible as the Morning and the Night! 
  Fair as the Sea and the Sun and the 
  Snow upon the Mountain! Dreadful as 
  the Storm and Lightning! . . . All 
  shall love me and despair!” 
  —J.R.R. Tolkien 
  The Fellowship of the Ring 
  APPEARANCE 
  he Mask of Sorrowful Beauty is a five-inch 
  white porcelain mask resembling the upper 
  side of a human face of indeterminate 
  gender. It covers from the forehead to the 
  cheeks and just below the nose it curves as an inverted 
  “U,” leaving the mouth and chin uncovered. It also has 
  holes for the eyes and nostrils, as well as a silver string 
  on the sides to keep it in place. The whole piece is very 
  light and comfortable to wear. 
  Background 
  The sculptor Pierre Spandeaux was a gifted artist who 
  lived most of his life as a recluse in a small house-and-
  studio in the outskirts of St. Ronges, in Richemulot. He 
  was good-hearted and generous, but bore a hideously 
  scarred face, the grim result of an attack by sewer rats 
  when he was a child. Although he survived the ordeal, 
  his soul was also deeply scarred. His mother was also 
  an artist, and she sketched portraits of clients in cafes 
  and sold porcelain sculptures. His father, a cheap 
  cutpurse, had died years before, in the act of saving 
  Pierre from the rat attack. That was probably the 
  noblest thing the poor wretch had ever done in his life. 
  Pierre’s mother was a loving and responsible 
  woman, and took great care in making young Pierre live 
  with joy, doing as much as she could to conceal the fact 
  that he looked repulsive due to his awful scars. When 
  she took him with her, she always concealed his face 
  under a porcelain mask, pretending she was taking him 
  to an imaginary masked ball. He was delighted with 
  that party with no end, and played along with her. She 
  would then take him to walk through the streets and 
  channels of the city, singing and dancing with him. 
  He soon developed his talent for the arts, becoming 
  a skilled sculptor. His works started to sell in large 
  quantities and, soon enough, he was known as one of 
  the youngest and best sculptors of the city. His work 
  with porcelain masks was particularly famous, and 
  people from all places, and even from other cities, came 
  to buy his masks for the large parties thrown in spring 
  and autumn. Following his mother’s advice, he always 
  dealt with his clients wearing a fine porcelain mask that 
  covered his face almost entirely. She told him that such 
  a fine mask would be his best advertisement, and would 
  also confer an aura of mystery around him, thus making 
  him even more popular. 
  The plan worked well enough. Most of his clients 
  thought that it was some sort of eccentricity, or a way 
  of directing attention to the high quality of his work, 
  rather than a true need to hide his face. He became 
  “Monsieur Le Masque”, and was a constant presence 
  T 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT THINGS 
  162 
  during the warmer seasons. During the rest of the year, 
  he gathered materials, sculpted other pieces of fine art 
  and took care of his aging mother. 
  As he had started his career while still a child, his 
  mother had forbidden him of attending the balls until he 
  reached adulthood. She hoped he would understand his 
  problem and find his own ways of dealing with it. 
  However, he was so used to wearing a mask at all times 
  that he rarely found time to look at himself in the mirror 
  and face the sad truth. He eagerly waited for the time 
  when he would be able to attend a ball and see for 
  himself the product of his hard work. It seemed that he 
  had built a happy life for himself and his mother. 
  Then the wheel of fortune spun in another 
  direction. A few days after his nineteenth birthday, a 
  girl coming from Mortigny, named Anne-Marie, caught 
  his eye while buying an expensive porcelain mask. She 
  smiled at him and appeared a bit more grateful than the 
  average client. He was deeply touched by her beauty 
  and grace, by her shining smile and deep, black eyes. 
  She laughed at his jests and seemed impressed by his 
  work. 
  At home, he told his mother about the girl. 
  However, instead of being happy, she was alarmed. The 
  girl no lesser than a distant cousin of the Renier family, 
  the rulers of Richemulot. And the Reniers were more 
  than that—or at least the local gossip said so. More than 
  one young man was found dead in the sewers a few 
  days after dancing with a Renier girl in a ball. She 
  imagined that each young spoiled woman of that family 
  would use young men as toys and later, fearful of being 
  discovered in the arms of an “undeserving rogue,” 
  would arrange for his subtle disappearance. 
  To make things even worse, the girl had not seen 
  him without the mask, and surely knew of his fame as 
  an “eccentric.” Pierre’s mother feared what might 
  happen, should the girl use her family’s connections to 
  discover his secret and, just for fun, invite him for one 
  of the masquerades and have him take off his mask just 
  to humiliate him in front of a hundred people. She 
  adamantly forbade Pierre from ever seeing the girl 
  again, although she knew the order would break his 
  heart. 
  And she was right. Pierre was shocked to see his 
  mother directly interfere with his first affair. Further, he 
  was no fool; he was conscious of his ugliness and could 
  not believe his own mother did not trust him. Blinded 
  by passion, he accused her of being overprotective and 
  exaggerated, then said she was showing the same 
  prejudice against him from which she had allegedly 
  protected him before, for surely Anne-Marie liked him 
  for what he was and could do, not for his looks, and she 
  would understand him. His mother told him of tales 
  about what happened to young men who came too close 
  to the Reniers, but he refused to listen to her. 
  Their argument grew heated, and the lad left home 
  in a rush, seeking Anne-Marie. When he found her, his 
  surprise was almost as big as his shame. She was not 
  alone, instead accompanied by a snobbish young man. 
  When he asked for her love, she laughed at him, saying 
  she already knew his “precious secret” and that 
  everything had just been a mistake on his part. How 
  could he, an ugly and deformed man, believe himself 
  worthy of her love? She told him that, although she 
  lived in another city and had never seen his face, she 
  knew of his deformity just like everybody else, by the 
  gossip which had spread throughout the city, and she 
  claimed her smiles and graceful words had been 
  nothing more than pity. If he at least had a handsome 
  face, she said, she might consider the slight possibility 
  of ever being his . . . friend. 
  He was devastated. Going back to his study, he 
  took the porcelain mask he had been working on to give 
  her as a present, and decided to make it a gift for 
  himself. Working for days without eating and barely 
  sleeping, he created his finest piece of artwork. It was 
  chalk-white and shining, and he gave it a sad 
  expression. He used his own face as a model, carefully 
  measuring the mask so it would cover his scars entirely. 
  After two weeks, he was starving and ragged, but 
  his mask was perfect. So obsessed was he with creating 
  a piece of art that would completely cover his 
  imperfections, that the dark powers decided to help 
  him. When he first donned the mask, it painfully fused 
  with his skin. When he braced himself and finally could 
  breathe again, he noticed the profound change: the 
  mask had cleaned his face of all scars and deformities. 
  Instead of a mask, he saw his own face, perfect and 
  flawless for the first time. He was overjoyed. When he 
  pulled the mask back, though, it cut his face lightly. He 
  was worried in the beginning, but a few moments later 
  he noticed that he could always wear the mask again 
  and cover this new, fresh scar. Every time he pulled it 
  away, it cut his face, but every time he wore it again all 
  scars disappeared. 
  When he thought he had learned the secrets of his 
  best work, he set up his plans. There would be a ball at 
  the local Renier manor and he decided to attend. As the 
  mask melded with his skin, he took another mask, this 
  one with a simple handle so he could always take it 
  away, and left home. His mother tried to stop him, but 
  when he showed her his “new face”, she was so 
  overwhelmed by his looks that could not say a word. 
  When he walked in the streets, carelessly waving 
  his mask, all people turned to see him, amazed with his 
  handsome looks. For the first time in his life, he was 
  happy to go out and face the crowds. It didn’t matter to 
  him that he was wearing a mask, because this time no 
  one could see it, only his perfect face. 
  But at the same time, he felt there was something 
  wrong, not with him, but with the people around him. 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT THINGS 
  163 
  He could feel a strange sensation, as if some of the 
  people were not what they looked like. Also, as he 
  overheard conversations in the cafés along the channels, 
  he could perceive people lying and cheating each other. 
  Twice he could even perceive that some people in the 
  cheering, snobbish groups going to the ball seemed to 
  not be human at all. For the first time in his life, he felt 
  that the city was a lot more dangerous than he had ever 
  thought before. 
  Arriving at the party, the dumbfounded doorman 
  did not even ask for his invitation, as his exceptionally 
  good looks fascinated him. Every woman at the ball 
  came to him in the hopes of being asked to dance, and 
  every man approached to offer him a drink, wanting to 
  be seen next to the most handsome and elegant man in 
  the manor. Suddenly, the crowd parted before the hosts 
  as they descended the stairs. Anne-Marie was wide-
  eyed. She approached Pierre and they danced under 
  everyone else’s envious gaze. Finally she took him 
  away from the hall, wanting to talk privately before any 
  of her cousins arrived. She was entranced by his 
  appearance, and seemed genuinely ashamed of her 
  previous behavior. 
  However, something was not right. While her 
  words seemed sincere, there was something else which 
  Pierre could not identify, but that alarmed him all the 
  same. Although he truly loved Anne-Marie, he felt that 
  could not stay near her for long. After a few moments, 
  the sensation was unbearable, and he ran away. She was 
  confused, but as the other guests turned to see what had 
  happened, she felt ashamed for being rejected, and 
  hatred replaced the new feeling she had barely begun to 
  develop towards Monsieur Le Masque. She was truly 
  furious. 
  As Pierre ran down the stairs and left the manor 
  house, Anne-Marie decided to teach him a lesson, once 
  and for all. Following him from the shadows while he 
  entered a nearby dark alley, she assumed her hybrid 
  form and summoned rats from the sewers to distract 
  him while she attacked. She intended to rake at his 
  handsome face and make it truly hideous, so much that 
  no mask would be able to help him. 
  However, the Mask had yet another dread surprise 
  to the young wererat. Able to detect her presence, 
  Pierre was not surprised and turned to face his enemy. 
  At once the handsome face turned to a nightmarish 
  visage, one that was unbearable to contemplate. Anne-
  Marie gave a loud wail of distress and panic, and fell to 
  the floor, her face twisted in painful horror, her eyes 
  and mouth wide open. So devastating was the effect 
  that part of her hair turned gray as she transfigured back 
  to her human shape. Pierre was shocked to see that his 
  beloved was indeed a monster, and that he had been the 
  cause of her demise. He ran into the night, still wearing 
  the Mask, as guards from the manor house came in 
  response to the scream. 
  The Reniers were outraged and furious by Anne-
  Marie’s death. Jacqueline herself visited the city a few 
  days later and sent several rats after Pierre and his 
  mother. The poor elder woman was no match for the 
  surprise attack, but the young man had not returned 
  home, having disappeared into the night. Rumors now 
  hold that Pierre has already died, for his Mask has been 
  seen in other places, sometimes being sold at stores, 
  sometimes traveling with theatrical groups. Everywhere 
  it goes, only grief and disaster can be expected. 
  Powers 
  The Mask’s first purpose was to conceal scars and other 
  facial deformities. The dark powers warped and 
  enhanced this power, and now the Mask is able to 
  correct deformities in the body as well. It functions like 
  a hat of disguise, but instead of changing the wearer’s 
  appearance, it enhances that aspect, reaching a 
  supernatural effect equivalent to Charisma 20 for 
  purposes of physical appearance, and giving the wearer 
  all reaction adjustments according to this new visage 
  (the true Charisma score is unchanged). Also, as it has 
  been made to deceive others, its owner is, on the other 
  hand, quite difficult to cheat. The Mask grants its owner 
  the detect lie ability, as per the spell, at will. 
  Curses 
  The first problem with the Mask is that the owner is 
  consciously deceiving others, and slowly becomes 
  addicted to doing so, finding it more and more difficult 
  to leave behind. This, combined with the Mask’s 
  detection power, gives the wearer a mild paranoia that 
  eventually develops into a severe insanity. After the 
  first week of use, and for every subsequent week the 
  Mask is donned the wearer must roll a madness check 
  with a cumulative –1 penalty. After the first failed roll, 
  madness does not manifest immediately, but the wearer 
  becomes more and more convinced that everyone is 
  lying and being dishonest in one way or the other. 
  Besides, every time a check is failed, the wearer feels 
  more comfortable with the Mask and doesn’t want to 
  take if off. After the third failed madness check, the 
  insanity finally manifests, as the wearer becomes brutal 
  and savage towards those he or she sees as liars and 
  cheaters, suffering an alignment change to Chaotic Evil 
  while wearing the Mask. 
  In addition, every time the Mask is removed, the 
  wearer suffers 1d4+1 points of damage, as the Mask 
  adheres itself to the skin and flesh. There is a non-
  cumulative percentage chance equal to the amount of 
  hit points lost that the user’s Charisma score will 
  permanently drop by one point. This painful effect only 
  enhances the reluctance of the wearer in removing the 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT THINGS 
  164 
  Mask, as he or she will almost certainly want to wear it 
  once again later and cover the previous scars. 
  The only sure way to get rid of the Mask is to 
  confront the wearer with his crimes and make him 
  willingly confess them. Also, if an atonement spell is 
  cast, the wearer gains relief and may leave the Mask 
  behind (still suffering the described damage). A remove 
  curse spell cast on the Mask will free the wearer 
  without causing damage, but the person still feels the 
  urge to wear the Mask again. 
  Also, the Mask was attuned to detect and hate 
  wererats and all rat-kin. The wearer cannot stand the 
  presence of rats, giant rats, osquips or similar creatures, 
  even wererats who are under human disguises, within 
  ten feet. Continuous exposure to such creatures prompts 
  a new madness check and consequently enhances the 
  chances of a possible alignment change. Finally, 
  whenever a wererat confronts the wearer in combat, the 
  Mask unleashes its most horrible attack: Its features 
  become so monstrous and revolting that the wererat 
  must make a fear check. If the roll fails, the 
  werecreature is unable to move for 2d4 rounds. If the 
  result of the d20 roll is “1,” the wererat dies from pure 
  fright. Even if the roll succeeds, the visage is often too 
  much for a naturally coward wererat, and most will ran 
  away. 
  Suggested Means of Destruction 
  # The Mask is very resistant to damage, having an 
  Armor Class of 1 and the same hit points of the 
  mad artiste Pierre Spandeaux who created it (30 
  hp). Only weapons of at least +1 enchantment can 
  harm it, and it suffers half damage from edged or 
  piercing weapons. Magical bludgeoning weapons 
  do normal damage to the Mask. It is immune to 
  normal or magical fire but suffers normal damage 
  from cold and electricity. If the Mask is attacked 
  while being worn, the wearer shares all suffered 
  damage. If worn after receiving damage, the Mask 
  reassembles and regenerates all damage at the rate 
  of one point per turn. After being smashed to small 
  pieces, the shards of the Mask must be scattered so 
  that no part of it will ever be usable again. 
  # According to a few tales, the ghost of Michelle 
  Spandeaux, Pierre’s mother, haunts the vicinity of 
  any place where the Mask is worn, stalking the 
  wearer in the hopes of destroying the accursed 
  piece of art. This might be merely another fable 
  created from overheard gossip and tall tales, but no 
  one knows for sure. If this is indeed the truth, 
  Michelle’s ghost might be able to eradicate the 
  Mask forever with her icy touch. That would also 
  be the only way to put her to rest permanently, as 
  she now blames the Mask for the misfortune of her 
  family. Michelle would most probably be a low-
  magnitude, hideous-looking, distorted apparition, 
  scarred by the rat attack and by her own grief and 
  suffering, as she feels completely unsuccessful in 
  her role as a protective mother. As an additional 
  yet essential feature, since the deadly attack she has 
  been completely mute, due both to her wounds and 
  to her shame. She might be an ally or foe to the 
  heroes, and her repulsive looks and inability to talk 
  might scare them a lot. This encounter is totally 
  optional, depending on the DM’s approach to the 
  Mask’s tale as part of the campaign. 
  ! 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT THINGS 
  165 
  THE VOCALIST 
  Voices Against the Darkness 
  by Wes Schneider 
  Dendread@home.com 
   
  THE VOCALIST 
  n places where music and song runs as deep 
  as tradition and as thick as blood, the 
  vocalist is not just a performer for the 
  community, but a teacher and resolute 
  defender. In the Lands of Mist he raises his song to 
  ward back the creatures of the night and strike a single 
  shining note to bring some light to the overwhelming 
  darkness. 
  Throughout the Core, the domain of Kartakass is 
  renowned for its rich heritage of music and song. In 
  each community the greatest performer is selected to 
  instruct and lead the population as Meistersinger, an 
  elected singing leader, until a more talented artist takes 
  his position. It is in the hopes of attaining this coveted 
  position that spawns the vocalist. 
  Trained in both the performing arts and the unique 
  histories and stories of his people, the vocalist hones his 
  voice to angelic quality so it might reflect the 
  magnificence of his home and the awe and love he has 
  for that land. Over time, practice, and through a bond 
  that grows between the performer and his land, the 
  vocalist gains the ability to raise the living, the created, 
  even the dead, to new heights through the undeniable 
  beauty and passion of his songs. The most common 
  vocalists are bards and rogues, since their powers so 
  closely parallel and are accentuated by the powers of 
  performance. However, many barbarians, clerics, 
  druids, fighters, monks, paladins, and rangers raise their 
  weapons with their voices, creating a deadly 
  combination of song and steel. Several sorcerers and 
  wizards also add the music of the vocalist to their 
  powers, weaving notes laden with untold and 
  miraculous powers. 
  NPC vocalists have reasons for their chosen paths 
  as diverse as any player. Whether they strive to aid their 
  community by sharpening their skills to celestial 
  perfection, or dominate it by attaining a position of 
  power, vocalists of all walks share a passion that lends 
  to their performances and their memorable 
  personalities. Annually each Kartakan settlement holds 
  a competition to seek out the best performer to be the 
  next Meistersinger, and during this time, just for a short 
  while, one domain of the Core, resounds with the music 
  of the vocalist, ancient songs of history, tradition, and 
  even, somehow, joy. 
  Hit Die: d6 
  Requirements 
  To qualify to become a vocalist, a character must fulfill 
  all of the following criteria. 
  Knowledge (History): 3 ranks. 
  Knowledge (Local): 3 ranks. 
  Perform (Singing): 8 ranks. 
  Feats: Skill Focus (Perform [singing]). 
  Special: Must be of Kartakan decent. Must have at 
  one point given a performance of extraordinary quality 
  (see the Player’s Handbook pg. 71) 
  Class Skills 
  The vocalist’s class skills (and the key ability for each 
  skill) are Animal Empathy (Cha), Knowledge (Local) 
  (Int), Knowledge (History) (Int), Listen (Wis), Perform 
  (Cha), Sense Motive (Wis), Spot (Wis), and Tumble 
  (Dex). 
   
  Class 
  Level 
  Base 
  Attack 
  Bonus 
   
  Fort 
  Save 
   
  Ref 
  Save 
   
  Will 
  Save 
   
   
  Special 
  1st 
  +0 
  +0 
  +2 
  +2 
  Charming Song, 
  Far Singing 
  2nd 
  +1 
  +0 
  +3 
  +3 
  Melody of Nature 
  3rd 
  +2 
  +1 
  +3 
  +3 
  Call of the Land 
  4th 
  +3 
  +1 
  +4 
  +4 
   
  5th 
  +3 
  +1 
  +4 
  +4 
  Ode, Dirge 
  6th 
  +4 
  +2 
  +5 
  +5 
  Danse Macabre 
  7th 
  +5 
  +2 
  +5 
  +5 
   
  8th 
  +6 
  +2 
  +6 
  +6 
  Words of Joy 
  9th 
  +6 
  +3 
  +6 
  +6 
  True Melody 
  10th 
  +7 
  +3 
  +7 
  +7 
  Greater Charming 
  Song 
   
  I 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RAVENLOFT PC RULES 
  166 
  Class Features 
  All of the following are class features of the vocalist 
  prestige class. All song abilities take one full-round 
  action to complete. All saving throws against the 
  vocalist’s abilities are DC (10 + vocalist’s level + 
  vocalist’s Charisma modifier). 
  Weapon and Armor Proficiency: Vocalists know 
  little of real combat and as such are only proficient with 
  simple weapons. They may wear any light or medium 
  armor, even shields, but anything heavier encumbers 
  them so that they may not breathe freely enough to 
  perform their songs. 
  Charming Song (Sp): The signature ability of the 
  vocalist is her charming song. The vocalist can, once 
  per day, per performance (at least 5 minutes), focus the 
  theme of her songs to those particularly touching or 
  soothing to a specific listener. If a successful Perform 
  check is made listeners of the song are so enamored and 
  touched by the vocalist’s ability that they behave as if 
  the spell charm person had been cast upon them. 
  Listeners receive a Will save to resist. The vocalist may 
  focus this ability on 2d6 people, 1d6 HD of animals, or 
  1d4 HD of monsters. 
  Far Singing (Sp): Three times per day the vocalist 
  may sing a song that drifts across the land at a low 
  volume, much like the spell whispering wind. The 
  vocalist may sing messages but not speak through this 
  ability. Her other song abilities cannot function through 
  this one. 
  Melody of Nature (Sp): Twice per day the 
  vocalist may sing, calling upon his attachment to the 
  land and summon natural aid. This ability functions the 
  spell summon nature’s ally I. 
  Call of the Land (Su): Once per day the vocalist 
  may spend three rounds tapping into the deepest parts 
  of her attachment to the lands to summon forth mist and 
  fog from the ground. This ability functions as the spell 
  obscuring mist but the area of effect and duration is 
  multiplied by the vocalist’s level. 
  Ode/Dirge (Sp): The vocalist is not a stagnant 
  figure; though he often functions as a teller of ancient 
  tales, audiences crave new and innovate works. As 
  such, the vocalist creates new songs and tales to fulfill 
  the needs of her audience. Often, vocalists will take 
  figures from their travels and immortalize them in epic 
  song. How these figures are cast though can be a boon 
  or curse upon the figure at the focus of the lyrical work. 
  The Ode ability allows the vocalist to create a song 
  detailing and embellishing upon the positive traits of a 
  figure; his unbeatable strength, her angelic beauty, etc. 
  Thus anyone who has heard the ode responds to the 
  focus of the song as if their Charisma were three points 
  higher for the next number of months equal to the 
  vocalist’s level. The vocalist is unable to use this ability 
  on himself, as it would be seen as a simple work of 
  narcissism at its first performance. 
  The reverse of the ode ability is the dirge, a 
  somber, depressing tune, focusing on the negative 
  qualities of a character. Those who have heard the dirge 
  and encounter its focus respond as if her Charisma were 
  three points lower for the next number of months equal 
  to the singer’s level. 
  Danse Macabre (Sp): The darkest of the vocalist’s 
  abilities, once per day the vocalist may make a Perform 
  check at DC 20. If this check is successful the Danse 
  Macabre causes the remains of the dead nearby to rise 
  and serve the singer as skeletons with Hit Dice equal to 
  her level. The skeletons are true undead and as such are 
  affected by turning and spells that affect undead. As 
  animating the dead is a fundamentally corrupt action 
  this ability does provoke a powers check. The skeletons 
  remain and serve until destroyed or until the vocalist 
  stops singing. 
  Words of Joy (Sp): Once per day the vocalist may 
  focus her formidable talent into a short yet beautiful 
  song causing a single opponent, after a failed save, to 
  be stricken with overwhelming happiness, forcing him 
  to do nothing more than dance for 1d4+1 rounds. This 
  ability functions exactly like the spell Otto’s irresistible 
  dance. 
  True Melody (Sp): This song, one of the most 
  difficult for the vocalist to master, is said to, if 
  performed correctly and with the full sprit of the singer 
  backing it, cause even non-living objects to rise and 
  dance to its wondrous tune. Once per day the vocalist 
  may use this ability, causing non-living items to rise 
  and obey her, as per the spell animate objects, for as 
  long as the song is sung uninterrupted. 
  Greater Charming (Sp): By this point the vocalist 
  has so honed her charming song that it affects an even 
  more impressive amount of creatures. The vocalist may 
  now focus this ability on 2d8 people, 3d6+1 HD of 
  animals, or 2d4 HD of monsters. 
  ! 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: INTERLUDE 
  167 
  October 31st, 755. 
  THE PHANTASMAL FOREST. 
  !"#$!"#$!"#$!"#$!"#$!"#$!"#$!"#$ 
  avran gazed up at the clutching branches of 
  the tortured trees as they spiraled away 
  above him into the darkness. Trying to judge 
  his position, his gaze fell to earth again, and 
  as he stared at the muck oozing up around his boots, he 
  was sure. He was as sure as he could possibly be that 
  this was the spot where one year earlier, almost to the 
  hour, he had watched the last life’s blood pour from 
  Barloc’s punctured throat. A voice forever silenced by 
  something beyond . . . 
  Davran looked up. 
  . . . something beyond that wall. 
  Davran stared at the pristine barrier in silence, 
  contemplating its horrors. At long last he realized; this 
  was not a wall. These were not stones. This was the 
  fanged maw of the Abyss, and it was smiling at him. 
  He turned away, knowing that if he stared into that 
  flat, blank hell for another moment he would have no 
  choice but to hurl himself at it—at whatever lurked 
  behind it. He took in the scene around him, seeking to 
  calm himself. The surroundings seemed to leap whole 
  from Davran’s memories; the Knights of the Shadows 
  were busy making their secondary camp, while the 
  “Wolfpack”—his supposed comrades—aided as they 
  could and kept an eye on the shadows. A few new 
  faces, and a few faces keenly missed, were all that 
  made the difference. It felt like so much time had 
  passed, and yet here he stood, preparing for another 
  night of waiting at the end of the world, as if the past 
  year had not passed at all. 
  Davran let his mind flow back to that night. Übrig 
  had spent the entire time on watch. Davran almost 
  pitied the dwarf, for no horrors had emerged from the 
  night that could claw their way past his watchful sword. 
  Julian had been assigned to different watches, and had 
  not been missed. In the end, Davran had spent most of 
  the night patrolling with Kosia. Somehow, he unused to 
  speaking, and she unused to being spoken to, had talked 
  away most of the long hours. He had never asked Kosia 
  what she had hid beneath her layers of masks. Over the 
  course of the past year, as Davran found his mind 
  strangely replaying the sound of her voice that night, he 
  found that he no longer cared. 
  As the hours stretched on, Davran’s tiring body had 
  told him that dawn was nearing. Somewhere beyond the 
  endless night of the Phantasmal Forest, the sun was 
  rising. 
  That was when the knights had returned. There had 
  been a sudden commotion; Davran and Kosia had 
  rushed to the scene in time to see Rohmer dragging his 
  friend from the wall. Their armor was burned and 
  chipped, and both were badly wounded. Even Davran’s 
  inexperienced eyes knew deep sword strikes when he 
  saw them. Rohmer had suffered a long slash down the 
  length of his shield arm, which he now cradled at his 
  side. Barloc had been stabbed just above the collarbone. 
  Although the blood still pulsed over his armor, 
  everyone but the pleading Rohmer could tell with a 
  glance that no amount of healing magic would save the 
  valorous knight. Death had likely come for Barloc as 
  his friend tried to drag him to safety. 
  Emileeza and the tattooed knight did not emerge 
  from the wall. They never would. 
  The answer was obvious—the two knights would 
  not have been able to escape the manor otherwise in 
  any condition—but the question still had to be asked. 
  Yes, Rohmer had nodded. The four keys were in place, 
  he had assured Gondegal. Although it had come at a 
  brutal cost, the vital deed had been done. 
  Eventually, after the healers had helped Rohmer 
  recover some of his strength, it emerged that disaster 
  had struck when the tattooed knight had forged on 
  ahead of Emileeza. Before she could warn the 
  headstrong man, he had opened the wrong door—and 
  found himself facing a room filled with hovering blades 
  that had waited an eternity for his arrival. Rohmer had 
  described all that followed as a bloodstorm. 
  With the knights’ task done, the entourage had 
  marched back to Nidala. They had carried Barloc’s 
  body the entire way, to ensure that the quagmires of the 
  Forest did not claim him, damning him to awake some 
  future night as one of the flesh-eating Ahltrian. Barloc 
  was now buried at the Red Wolf’s camp. 
  And with that, the Knights of the Shadows had 
  scattered to the winds for another year. 
  Another year. Davran’s clothes were even more 
  badly patched now, but his armor fit, and he carried the 
  same battle axe in a steady, calloused hand. His face 
  was leaner now as well, from a year of avoiding Lady 
  Elena’s merciless search parties. But the woodsmen had 
  D 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: INTERLUDE 
  168 
  not been the worst menace. Over the past year, a rumor 
  had flared to life among the Red Wolf’s camp, claiming 
  that Elena Faith-hold had a spy among their number. 
  Whispers held that, under cover of night, a prisoner had 
  been released from the dungeons beneath Elena’s 
  castle, the Faith Hold. Freed for a price, that price being 
  the Red Wolf’s head. No one had any proof, of course, 
  but Davran knew that the rumor alone could tear 
  through the bandits far more cruelly than any spy ever 
  could. He also knew that some eyes were beginning to 
  turn toward him, for this faceless “spy” had supposedly 
  been freed not long before Davran had been found 
  hanging in his gibbet. Davran resolved to simply ignore 
  the stares for as long as he could. It was all he could do 
  for now, but he sensed he would not be welcome in the 
  western woods forever. 
  Perhaps the growing unease with his comrades was 
  why Davran had welcomed the sight of the returning 
  knights this year. A bit to his surprise, both Julian and 
  Übrig had survived to return. Julian’s beard was longer, 
  and growing unkempt. Davran remembered Rohmer’s 
  words about the flames of hatred consuming him from 
  within. He could see Julian being consumed, and 
  imagined him turning entirely feral within a few years. 
  Yet Davran could still feel those same fires flickering 
  within himself as well. 
  Übrig, for his part, was barely present. He had not 
  spoken two words in as many days. He communicated 
  mainly in quiet grunts and nods now, as his wide eye 
  continually scanned the encroaching gloom for his fate; 
  for the death that he had missed. 
  Rohmer had also returned. Davran sensed a 
  nervous anxiety crackling within him; he could tell that 
  whatever had happened within that wall had not left 
  Rohmer’s thoughts for one moment in the entire year. 
  And last, Kosia was back as well. Of all of them, 
  she seemed the least changed. She still cloaked herself 
  in black, leaving only her glittering eyes to be seen. 
  Those eyes were still hard, battered but unbeaten. If 
  anything, she seemed quieter now, unsure of how to 
  speak to Davran. Davran found himself wondering if 
  she had anyone to talk to on all the other days of the 
  year. 
  Once again, the great entourage had made camp at 
  the circle of sunlight in the Phantasmal Forest, that 
  lonesome gift from Belenus. There they had again 
  waited for Gondegal to return with the four offerings—
  the four keys, as Rohmer had called them. From there 
  the group had again wound its way to that wall—to the 
  border of Shadowborn Manor. 
  Then the time had come for the choosing 
  ceremony. Gondegal had picked Rohmer to return as 
  the guide, perhaps so he could face his demons. Davran 
  couldn’t tell if Rohmer had been more excited or 
  terrified by the news. Then the other three names had 
  been chosen. 
  The names chosen were Übrig, Julian, and Kosia. 
  Gondegal had given each of them a rosewood box, and 
  taken them aside to quietly explain their use. The 
  knights had handed over their swords and daggers, then 
  suffered through the ceremonial salute. 
  Kosia had passed near Davran on her way to the 
  wall. “Come back safe,” he had said, the words sticking 
  in his throat. She stopped, and tilted her head at him. 
  Davran found himself unable to read her eyes. 
  “Thank you,” she said softly, then turned away. 
  And then they were all gone, gone into that wall. 
  All the knights he knew, knights he even . . . they had 
  all stepped into hell, to face Ebonbane at its heart. 
  Davran found himself standing alone before the 
  endless wall, feeling helpless. Feeling like a dumb boy, 
  left behind again. He could feel the fires burning within 
  him; the need to do something. Clutching his axe 
  tightly, he looked back and forth at the men and women 
  buzzing around the campsite. For the moment, no one 
  was looking his way. Davran grinned. 
  This year, death would not be kept waiting. 
  A moment later, Davran was gone. 
  ! ! ! 
  Davran pushed himself through the darkness. The 
  “wall” had proven utterly intangible as he entered, but 
  rock solid the moment he tried to take an experimental 
  step back. Uninterested in retreat, he pressed on, blind 
  and only able to hear the sound of grinding stones 
  surrounding him. With each step, the grinding gained 
  rhythm, until it at last settled into a thudding double 
  beat. A heartbeat, slow and ponderous and maddening. 
  “This is where the world ends,” Rohmer had said, 
  “and where Ebonbane begins.” 
  No sooner had the thought passed Davran’s mind 
  than he found himself spilled out into hell. He stumbled 
  to his knees, and found himself clutching grass, 
  luxurious and green. Davran looked up, returning to his 
  feet, and was amazed. The white wall was at his back, 
  and it stretched off in both directions, making wide arcs 
  before gracefully meeting each other again hundreds of 
  feet distant. The white ring of stone enclosed the 
  beautifully tended grounds of an elegant estate, 
  separating the earth from a glorious sapphire sky. The 
  sun’s light shone down, warm and loving, glimmering 
  in the manor’s tall windows. 
  Davran took a few soft steps forward, drinking in 
  such beauty as he had seldom seen. On his third step, he 
  heard something crack. Lifting his foot, Davran saw 
  something glittering in the grass. Curious, he dropped 
  back down to one knee, reached down, and delicately 
  plucked up the trapped bit of light. 
  It was just a shard of cracked glass—blown glass, 
  smooth and curved and thin as breath. Poking around 
  the grass, he plucked up a few more pieces, cradling 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: INTERLUDE 
  169 
  them in his hand. It was a ball. Davran imagined that, 
  before he’d stepped on it, the shards of glass would 
  have fit together to form a perfect, tiny sphere, no more 
  than an inch or two across. Davran looked around, half 
  expecting to spot more of the ephemeral treasures lying 
  on the lawn, but he found none. 
  Suddenly a noise tore through the calm. It was 
  Julian, and he was shouting. Before the shards in his 
  hand had even fallen to the ground, Davran had 
  launched into a sprint, his axe pumping in one hand. 
  Rounding a hedge, Davran saw the others just 
  ahead. Julian and Kosia were screaming at each other, 
  and throwing accusatory gestures. Rohmer and Übrig 
  stood between them, trying to form a barrier, but 
  ultimately looking a bit helpless. Davran slowed to a 
  jog, realizing that he had no idea what was going on. 
  “I don’t care!” roared Julian, pointing a shaking 
  gauntlet at Kosia. “I tell you I looked! And she is not 
  who—” 
  Julian fell silent as Davran entered his view. His 
  eyes widened to platters. The others followed his gaze, 
  and reacted with similar shock. 
  “Davran?” murmured Kosia. Übrig merely stared 
  at Davran dully, while Rohmer’s face assumed a deep 
  cast of suspicion. 
  Julian thrust his mace in Davran’s direction, 
  switching the focus of his fury effortlessly. “You are 
  not supposed to be here!” He turned back to the others, 
  his face livid. “What is going on here? First her, now 
  him? What next?” 
  The manor responded to this request. 
  As Davran cautiously merged with the group, a 
  curtain of shimmering light began to coalesce from the 
  fragrant spring air. At first formless and flowing, within 
  moments the spray of light solidified into a feminine 
  figure. Her kind face was surrounded by a halo of fair 
  hair, which flowed off into vapor. As the spirit’s 
  features faded in and out of existence, they gazed upon 
  the gathered warriors with a mixture of compassion and 
  concern. 
  Übrig was the first to ask what all the knights were 
  thinking. “Is that . . . ?” 
  Rohmer immediately dropped to one knee and 
  bowed his head. “Lady Kateri Shadowborn.” 
  The spirit’s voice was firm. “I come to warn you.” 
  Her image wavered as she spoke, losing form with 
  every word. “There is a traitor among you.” 
  Rohmer’s head snapped up to look at Lady Kateri’s 
  gaze. Julian spun to glare at his companions. Kosia 
  merely stiffened her posture, while Davran took a 
  cautious step back. 
  Übrig merely shrugged. “I know it isn’t me.” 
  The spirit continued, her voice increasingly urgent. 
  “One who serves three masters! Beware of—” 
  The spirit of Lady Kateri started to raise a pointing 
  hand, but the moment she did so, her image contorted 
  painfully into monstrous and skeletal forms. An instant 
  later, violet flame belched up from the earth at the 
  spirit’s feet, engulfing her. 
  Where the spirit of Lady Kateri had stood now 
  billowed only a pillar of unnatural, hateful flame. In the 
  heart of this pillar of fire, a sword rose up from the 
  earth, sprouting from the cracking ground like a weed. 
  Its long, slender blade was black as night, and covered 
  in runes that glowed blacker still; the sword’s hilt was 
  molded from gleaming silver. The tormented figures 
  sculpted in the sword’s pommel seemed to writhe and 
  quake in the light of the flames. 
  As the sword rose, the world warped to greet it. 
  The glorious gardens died and withered to blackened 
  weeds within moments; the elegant manor peeled and 
  cracked, aging centuries in seconds. Even the skies 
  obeyed the sword, as crackling storm clouds expanded 
  from thin air to hide the sky—even as that sky twisted 
  from perfect blue to pitch black, as a ruddy sun fled for 
  the horizon. 
  “By all the gods,” murmured Davran. 
  “That sword,” shrieked Julian. “I know that sword! 
  It’s the Ebonbane! The Ebonbane is free again! We’re 
  doomed!” 
  “No,” interjected Rohmer as he cautiously rose to 
  his feet. “That is not the Ebonbane. It is just the sword 
  that once held it. Just a sword, alive like any other in 
  this realm; recreated time and time again just like the 
  manor itself!” 
  The sword began to dance grotesquely in the air 
  before them, as if daring the warriors to try to cross its 
  path. 
  “How do you know?” shouted Kosia over the fury 
  of the coming storm. 
  “If that was the Ebonbane,” Rohmer shouted back, 
  “We’d be dead already.” 
  “We’ll be dead soon enough if we don’t spot this 
  thing,” bellowed Davran. “Demon or not, how do you 
  kill a sword?” 
  The ebon blade opted not to let the warriors ponder 
  this riddle. Its twirling dance instantly halted, and it 
  launched itself at blinding speed towards Rohmer. Only 
  one thing could move faster. 
  Übrig threw himself in the path of the murderous 
  sword. It plunged through his chest, and together they 
  went spinning through the air, finally landing at 
  Davran’s feet. Übrig rolled onto his back, the hilt of the 
  sword still jutting from his chest, and lay still. 
  “Übrig!” Davran shouted, dropping to the dwarf’s 
  side. The others raced to join them as well. Übrig 
  opened his one eye weakly. It was unfocused. It was 
  dying. Übrig found Davran’s gaze and burbled his 
  name, coughing up blood. With one shaking arm, Übrig 
  pressed the tiny rosewood box he had been assigned 
  into Davran’s hands, finally letting go of the leather 
  strap wound around his palm. 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: INTERLUDE 
  170 
  “Take it and go,” Übrig gasped. Blood was now 
  pooling beneath his body. 
  Davran clutched the box stupidly, not knowing 
  what to do. Kosia dropped to Übrig’s other side and 
  leaned in meet the dwarf’s fading gaze. 
  “Just lay still, Übrig,” she cried above the storm. “I 
  might still be able to help you!” 
  At that promise, the sword buried in Übrig’s chest 
  suddenly leapt to life again, lunging for Kosia’s fragile 
  throat. Kosia and Davran jumped back as a pair of 
  bloody hands clamped around the unholy blade’s hilt. 
  With inhuman effort, Übrig plunged the bucking sword 
  back into his chest. The sword jerked to and fro, 
  desperate to free itself from Übrig’s dying clutches. 
  “Go!” shrieked the dwarf, as the struggling blade 
  continued to saw through his breastplate. “Run!” 
  Davran’s mind was suddenly very clear. He sprang 
  to his feet and all but shoved the others toward the 
  manor. “Go! Get inside! Now!” 
  Without another word, Davran and the three 
  knights bolted for the manor’s entrance. Behind them 
  they left the fury of the raging storm, and Übrig’s dying 
  cries of agony and triumph. 
  ! ! ! 
  The outer doors of the entry hall slammed shut, 
  muffling the roar of the storm and all that it contained. 
  For the moment, a queasy sort of calm had been 
  restored. Davran and Julian leaned against the double 
  doors, panting. Kosia stood alone in the middle of the 
  chamber, clutching her face in one inky hand. Rohmer 
  cautiously cracked open an inner door and peered 
  through it, his pick at the ready. 
  “Wait,” Julian grunted, before Rohmer could go 
  any further. “We aren’t done here.” 
  Kosia snapped her head around at Julian, her eyes 
  glaring. “You’re mad.” 
  “Oh am I?” Julian mused. He turned to Davran, 
  sneering. “Let’s see what you think, Davran, since you 
  took it upon yourself to join our little escapade. I mean, 
  after all, we were just told by the lady of the manor 
  herself that there’s an enemy in our midst. And we all 
  know who Lady Kateri was starting to point at, don’t 
  we?” 
  “She wasn’t pointing at anyone,” barked Rohmer. 
  He took a moment to regain his composure. “Ebonbane 
  didn’t let her. You’re grasping at straws, Julian.” 
  “Oh, am I?” sneered the blond knight. “Well, if she 
  isn’t the spy, then maybe it’s you! Or maybe it’s our 
  little volunteer friend here! Because I know it isn’t me, 
  and I’m quite convinced it wasn’t Übrig.” 
  Davran shook his head, confused. “What are you—
  what were you shouting about? Back in the garden? 
  Before the ghost appeared?” 
  “Ah, see?” Julian grinned, sweeping a pointing 
  finger from Davran back to Kosia. “He’s smart. You 
  might not know this, local boy, but where Kosia there 
  says she’s from isn’t really all that far away from where 
  I’m from. And so I spent a little time looking into her.” 
   “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” 
  Kosia’s voice was sneering. 
  “And we don’t have time for this,” added Rohmer. 
  “Oh, I think we do.” Julian turned back to Davran. 
  “You see, I found out that there was a girl named Kosia 
  who lived in Tepest. As it turns out, the locals were 
  going to burn her as a witch.” Julian pushed off the 
  heavy door, taking a few steps towards Kosia. “And 
  there was a Knight of the Shadows who rushed to save 
  her. But here’s the thing that bothers me, one bit of the 
  story that everyone agrees on.” Julian leered back at 
  Davran over his shoulder. “They agree that the knight 
  in shining armor was too late. The girl burned.” 
  Davran straightened. “What do you mean?” 
  Julian patted the head of his mace against his calf. 
  “What I mean is, this girl—this scarecrow—is either 
  not Kosia, or it is not alive.” Julian turned his full 
  attention to the ebon figure, and tightened his grip on 
  the mace. “If we want to find the traitor, I say we start 
  with the monster.” 
  And with that, Julian raised the mace to strike. 
  Before Kosia or Rohmer could react, the mace arced 
  through the air, whistling down toward Kosia’s head—
  but mid-swing it seemed to suddenly strike a wall, 
  nearly knocking the weapon free of Julian’s grip. 
  Amazed, he looked up at his trapped weapon, and saw 
  the head of his mace interlocked with the head of 
  Davran’s axe. Julian spun to face Davran, their faces 
  mere inches apart. 
  “I think,” Davran growled, “That if you want to cut 
  her, you’re going to carve through me first.” 
  Julian looked up at his mace again, puzzled. Then 
  he remembered, and he smiled cruelly. 
  “I don’t need you to save me,” offered Kosia in a 
  husky whisper. Davran turned to look at her as Julian 
  withdrew, chuckling hopelessly. 
  “And he’s right,” she added. “About some of it.” 
  Julian laughed once, to himself. Rohmer and 
  Davran both raised an eyebrow. “Kosia . . .” began 
  Davran, uncertain. 
  “They were going to burn me as a witch. And the 
  knight that saved me did come too late. The . . . 
  witnesses didn’t stay to watch what happened after my 
  guardian arrived. They’d already seen enough.” Kosia 
  started to untie the laces running around her throat, 
  loosening her cowl. “His spells saved my life. But there 
  wasn’t much else they could do.” 
  “Kosia,” murmured Davran, his voice steady. “You 
  don’t have to do this.” 
  Kosia shook her head. “Yes, I do.” She peeled back 
  the cowl, laying her face bare. Her eyes were still azure 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: INTERLUDE 
  171 
  gems. Her teeth gleamed like pearls. There wasn’t 
  much else left. Just a few wisps of colorless hair 
  clinging to a head that looked as though it had been 
  poorly shaped from molten wax. 
  Kosia scowled, as much as she could, keeping her 
  eyes locked with Julian’s horrified stare. “I can show 
  you as much of this as you like. Do you still think I’m 
  one of Ebonbane’s ghouls? Or do you think I’m 
  something worse?” 
  Step by step, Kosia had backed Julian into a corner, 
  where he now stood, pale and mute. Kosia noted 
  Rohmer trying to politely avert his eyes. These were the 
  expressions she knew. She had seen them countless 
  times, even on the faces of those people she had saved 
  from hags or goblins or worse. 
  But then another arm—Davran’s arm—reached 
  around from behind her, gently draping itself across her 
  collarbone. 
  “Kosia,” she heard Davran’s voice whisper, soft 
  and serene. “Kosia, we aren’t safe yet. We need to 
  move.” Startled, she spun to face him. His face was a 
  wonderment to her, devoid of pity, devoid of spite, 
  except for one moment: the moment when Davran had 
  momentarily glanced past her at the quaking blond 
  knight. 
  Rohmer cleared his throat. Davran stepped back 
  from Kosia. She continued to stare at him, bewildered. 
  “How far do we still have to go?” Davran asked. 
  Rohmer smiled weakly, “Through this door, we 
  have one room, one hallway, and one staircase to go. 
  We’re almost there.” 
  Julian insisted on bringing up the rear. 
  ! ! ! 
  The massive iron door squealed hideously on its 
  hinges, but it opened all the same. Rohmer, Kosia, 
  Davran and Julian filed into the small cellar, and at last 
  found themselves facing the end of their quest. A forge 
  sat against the far wall, its coals still hot, bathing the 
  chamber in guttering red light. 
  It was by this light that the foursome could see the 
  crystal coffin that occupied the center of the room. 
  Davran had never seen anything like it before, and he 
  could see the excitement in the others’ faces as well, 
  even Rohmer’s. The coffin had been carved from a 
  single block of crystal, and every inch was covered in 
  intricate engravings. At first Davran thought the crystal 
  was clouded and dark—but then the inky stain 
  twitched. With a start, Davran realized the crystal was 
  as clear as glass—but darkness incarnate flowed just 
  beneath its surface. 
  “What is this thing?” Davran asked, not taking his 
  eyes from the coffin. 
  “This is the founder of our order,” replied Rohmer. 
  “This is Alexi Shadowborn.” 
  Julian looked up suspiciously. “It’s the Ebonbane.” 
  “It’s both.” Rohmer smiled tightly. 
  Kosia started to run her fingers along the coffin’s 
  length. Davran finally tore his gaze away. “I don’t 
  understand.” 
  “You wouldn’t,” sneered Julian. 
  Rohmer frowned at the blond knight. “The 
  Ebonbane is like nothing else. It is more than a demon, 
  and less than a god. It is also without form. Without a 
  physical body, there is no prison that can hold it. At 
  first it took the body of a Grand Caliph, and in him 
  scheming to corrupt an empire, and after that, a world. 
  But that plan was spoiled largely by a single woman.” 
  “Kateri Shadowborn?” 
  “Correct. She banished the Ebonbane back to its 
  realm. She ruined its monstrous plans. She decimated 
  its hideous minions. The last three servants of the 
  Ebonbane summoned it back into the world, locking it 
  into the ‘body’ of that sword you saw outside. From 
  that day on, the Ebonbane has been dedicated wholly 
  and utterly to the absolute spiritual destruction of 
  everything Lady Kateri ever held dear. It murdered 
  Lady Kateri, and that was just the beginning of its 
  wrath. Its vengeance would have been all the more 
  terrible had the Ebonbane not found itself trapped in 
  this manor—this prison, spawned by the tattered will of 
  Lady Kateri’s ghost. But even so, its conquests were 
  many. And each time the Ebonbane ruined another 
  piece of Lady Kateri’s world, it was added to the 
  Ebonbane’s collection in the Phantasmal Forest. This 
  manor; Tergeron; even your homeland of Nidala and a 
  dozen sites you’ve never even heard of are all just 
  trophies hanging in the Ebonbane’s web.” 
  Davran hesitantly touched the coffin. The darkness 
  swirled beneath his hand. “So what is this thing?” 
  “No sword could trap the Ebonbane forever,” 
  muttered Julian. “That’s where Alexi Shadowborn 
  came in. He was Lady Kateri’s son, you see. He came 
  here, to this very room, to avenge his mother. He fought 
  the Ebonbane, and he defeated it.” 
  “By freeing it from the sword, and trapping it 
  within his own soul,” concluded Kosia. 
  “All correct,” affirmed Rohmer. “Alexi remained 
  in this manor for the rest of his days. He founded the 
  Circle to continue the work the paladins of his 
  homeland had begun. And he struggled to keep the 
  Ebonbane trapped every remaining day of his life. But 
  he was just a mortal man, like all of us, and he knew 
  that time was working against him. He knew that the 
  Ebonbane would run rampant upon the moment of his 
  death. It was about eighty years ago that Alexi 
  determined to keep the Ebonbane trapped forever. 
  “Alexi had a sister, named Aurora. Thanks to that 
  mage, Morgoroth the Black, she sleeps forever in a 
  crystal coffin deep within Tergeron Manor.” Rohmer 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: INTERLUDE 
  172 
  now ran his own hands over the coffin’s engravings. 
  “The very coffin upon which this one was modeled.” 
   “Morgoroth was persuaded to create this coffin, 
  because he was wise enough to understand that the first 
  thing the Ebonbane would destroy once it was freed 
  was Aurora. And she is the one thing in all the world 
  that Morgoroth is not willing to lose.” 
  Rohmer placed his little rosewood box on top of 
  the coffin, near a small hemispherical depression. 
  Davran noticed that each side of the coffin had the same 
  round hollow. Rohmer opened his box, revealing a tiny 
  glowing sphere, pulsing with fiery red light. He plucked 
  up the glowing sphere and held it delicately between his 
  fingers. 
  “Only Morgoroth could have created this coffin, 
  and thus only he can make these keys.” Kosia and 
  Julian popped open their boxes, revealing glowing 
  spheres of navy blue and dark amber, respectively. 
  Davran followed suit, opening his own box. The sphere 
  glowed silver. He removed his sphere from the box as 
  the others had done. It felt like glass. He nodded with 
  recognition. 
  “The same elemental keys that destroyed the 
  sword,” continued Rohmer, “keep the coffin whole 
  against the Ebonbane’s endless onslaught.” 
  Kosia looked across the coffin at Davran. “All we 
  have to do it insert the elemental keys into the grooves, 
  like this—” 
  Kosia did as she had described, gently placing the 
  glowing blue glass sphere in the hemispherical hollow. 
  There was a gentle flash of light. The sphere was gone, 
  but its blue aura now flowed through the inscriptions on 
  the coffin. 
  Davran frowned. “Wait.” 
  “What now?” Julian grimaced. “I’d like to get this 
  over with.” 
  Davran examined his own glowing sphere. “The 
  glass in that key—what just happened to it?” 
  Kosia shrugged. “Consumed by the magic.” 
  Davran’s frown deepened. He turned to Rohmer. 
  “What would happen if we lost a key? If we didn’t use 
  them all?” 
  Now Rohmer shrugged. “The ritual would be 
  incomplete. It would fail. No better than leaving the 
  coffin untended altogether.” 
  “And how long would it take Ebonbane to escape 
  Morgoroth’s coffin here if the keys weren’t 
  replenished?” 
  “One year,” mused Rohmer. Now he began to 
  frown. “. . . Maybe two, with luck.” 
  “What’s this about, Davran?” inquired Julian. 
  Davran looked at Julian, then at Kosia. “I ask 
  because I found one of these orbs outside. It was empty 
  and cracked, but it couldn’t have been used.” 
  He turned back to Rohmer. “You did complete the 
  ritual last year, didn’t you?” 
  All eyes turned to Rohmer. His shoulders slumped. 
  “Julian,” he sighed, reaching into the folds of his cape, 
  “I need to demonstrate something. Hold this for me, 
  would you?” 
  When Rohmer’s hand reemerged a moment later, it 
  produced a bundle of knives. 
  Julian exploded. “You brought knives into the 
  Manor! Are you insane?” 
  Rohmer shook his head sadly. “If only it were that 
  simple.” He let go. The seven blades spun in the air for 
  an instant before launching themselves at Julian like 
  arrows. Whatever curse Julian was about to spew was 
  lost as the blades imbedded themselves deeply in his 
  flesh. Julian collapsed, gurgling. Kosia leapt across 
  Julian’s body to catch his key before it could roll off the 
  coffin and smash on the floor. 
  “So,” Davran hissed. “You’re Elena’s spy!” 
  Almost as an afterthought, Davran quickly flicked his 
  orb into its hollow, where it vanished in a flash. Silvery 
  light now mingled with the blue among the coffin’s 
  grooves. 
  Rohmer backed away from the coffin, clutching his 
  fiery key protectively. “Yes and no,” he replied. 
  Kosia emerged from behind the coffin, slapping the 
  amber orb in place. Three colors of light now danced 
  within the crystal. “What were you thinking?” she 
  hissed, rising from the floor holding both her own flail 
  and Julian’s mace. 
  Rohmer frowned. “What, my plan? It’s a simple 
  trick to make someone pick the right slip of paper from 
  a hat. It was no more difficult having myself selected 
  last year than it was to have all of you bickering 
  children chosen this year. And next year . . .” Rohmer 
  started to grin. “Well, next year won’t matter, will it?” 
  “But why?” roared Davran. “Why are you doing 
  this? Not even Elena Stranglehold would want this!” 
  Rohmer’s eyes quivered. “Lady Elena doesn’t 
  know what she really wants. I should know; I spent 
  enough time with her, in those dungeons, after she 
  captured me two years ago.” Rohmer’s voice was 
  choked with emotion. “It was painful at first, of course. 
  Redemption always is, isn’t it? But then, as she 
  continued to bestow her labors upon me, I came to 
  understand her. I have even come to love her, you see. 
  And there is so very much that my beloved is not ready 
  to accept—that she is not ready to know.” 
  “You love her?” grimaced Davran. “You’re not just 
  mad, you’re a fool. Elena Faith-hold doesn’t even know 
  the meaning of the word.” 
  Rohmer nodded. “Sadly, you’re right. She can’t tell 
  the difference between love and hate anymore. It’s just 
  as I told you, Davran—she has been left alone with her 
  hatred for so very long that it has eaten her alive.” 
  The floor started to tremble. 
  “But Elena taught me that anyone can be 
  redeemed, even me. Even her. What Elena needs is 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: INTERLUDE 
  173 
  really quite simple. She needs something more than 
  hatred in her life. She needs something greater than her 
  hatred.” 
  “What’s that,” mocked Davran. “Your love?” 
  The floor was buckling and cracking now, forcing 
  Davran and Kosia to brace themselves against the 
  coffin. 
  Rohmer scowled. “No. What Elena Faith-hold 
  needs is a nemesis.” 
  With that, violet flames burst to life at Rohmer’s 
  feet, and the slender black blade rose up from the 
  earthen floor, still sticky with dwarven blood. 
  “All Elena needs to be happy is to have Ebonbane 
  free, rampaging across her lands again. A true enemy 
  for her to fight. All could be forgiven!” He chucked. 
  “My love. Ha! Offering Elena my love just would have 
  gotten me killed. I’m not so blinded by love as to be 
  unaware that my Elena is consumed by darkness.” 
  Rohmer held out his hand, and the unholy sword’s 
  hilt rose smoothly into his grasp. The tremors ceased. 
  “So what else could I do but join her? Ebonbane 
  has proved most amenable to my plans.” 
  Davran and Kosia both stepped forward, their 
  weapons raised. Davran held out his hand. “Give me 
  the last key, Rohmer. It’s not too late.” 
  Rohmer examined the fragile little orb in his hand. 
  He looked up. “You’re right.” And with that he hurled 
  the key against the wall. The glass sphere smashed 
  against the rough stone. The light within burst in a flash 
  of flame, and then the magic was gone. 
  “Oh dear,” Rohmer cooed. “I’ve lost the fire.” He 
  twirled the sword around, bringing the blade upright. 
  Suddenly, the black blade burst into crimson flames. 
  “Oh dear,” he smiled. “I’ve found it again.” 
  Screaming a battle cry, Davran rushed the knight, 
  Kosia hard on his heels. As Rohmer stepped forward to 
  meet him, Davran brought down his battleaxe to cleave 
  through Rohmer’s skull. But the black sword danced in 
  Rohmer’s hand. In one stroke, it deflected Davran’s 
  strike, sliced through the haft of Davran’s axe, and 
  brought the pommel across Davran’s brow. 
  Dazed, Davran stumbled to the floor. Rohmer 
  stepped across him to meet Kosia. She rushed him, both 
  weapons swinging. Again, the sword fairly well 
  dragged Rohmer’s hand through the air as it cleaved 
  through both weapons in a mighty arc. Before Kosia 
  could react, Rohmer’s threw out his free hand, his fist 
  striking her square in the face. She staggered 
  backwards, collapsing against the crystal coffin. 
  Rohmer glanced down at Davran to ensure the 
  bandit was still out of the fight, then closed in on Kosia 
  to finish her. 
  “Wait, please,” pleaded Kosia, still bracing herself 
  against the coffin’s edge. 
  Rohmer paused, looking annoyed. “Let’s hear it. I 
  already had to wait long enough for this sword to carve 
  its way out of Übrig; I’m not in the mood to listen to 
  any speeches from you.” 
  Kosia nodded, her gaze still unfocused. “Just . . . 
  one request. Make it a quick end. One strike, through 
  the heart.” 
  Rohmer double-checked the sprawled Davran one 
  more time, then smiled. “That wish I can grant,” he 
  cooed. “I am not a cruel man by nature, after all.” He 
  scowled as his eyes skipped over the ravaged remains 
  over her face. “In fact, this is something that first 
  Knight of the Shadows in your life should have done 
  for you long ago.” 
  Kosia squeezed her eyes nearly shut as Rohmer 
  brought the flaming blade to bear on the eclipsed sun on 
  her breastplate. He calmly drew the sword back, and 
  then he struck. 
  At the last possible moment, Kosia lunged to the 
  side—but too late, as the razor-edged blade plunged 
  through her side. She cried out as the black blade 
  momentarily pinned her to the crystal coffin. The 
  crimson flames licked at Kosia’s wound, and flared out 
  behind her back. Rohmer laughed in triumph—but his 
  laughter was quickly choked off. 
  As Kosia fell across the coffin, barely conscious, a 
  new color was flowing through the engravings in the 
  crystal. A fiery red now blended with the colors of 
  earth, air, and water, swirling together into a blinding 
  white light. 
  “No!” he screamed, yanking back the blade. As 
  Kosia slumped to the floor, Rohmer saw what she had 
  done—what he had done. The tip of the black sword 
  had been struck the last round hollow. His sword’s own 
  flames had supplied the elemental key of fire. 
  Rohmer shrieked in horror, and another voice—a 
  voice utterly devoid of humanity—joined him in his 
  mind. As Rohmer watched, paralyzed by fear, the 
  swirling darkness within the coffin was beaten back by 
  the blazing light, inch by inch, until it at last retreated 
  into the coffin’s occupant. The man’s face was lined 
  with age, his hair silver, but his frame still contained the 
  spark of vitality. And once again, Alexi Shadowborn’s 
  face reflected the peace of his eternal slumber. 
  Rohmer continued to shriek, now in rage, oblivious 
  to the tendrils of obsidian energy worming their way up 
  his arm from the blade of his sword. Rohmer glared 
  down at Kosia, who struggled to return his gaze. 
  Summoning all of her might, she grinned. 
  Rohmer’s rage was now beyond words, beyond 
  thought. Screaming incoherently, he raised the sword to 
  remove that mocking grin from her wretched face. 
  Then something stung him. Kosia saw him stiffen 
  in pain. Rohmer clawed at something on his back, his 
  face uncomprehending. Shuffling his feet, Rohmer 
  turned to look at something behind him, and Kosia saw 
  the blade of a battleaxe, most of its haft cleanly 
  chopped away, jutting from between his shoulder 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: INTERLUDE 
  174 
  blades. Rohmer dropped the unholy sword, and it 
  shattered as it struck the ground. Finally, his strength 
  spent, Rohmer sank to the floor. Kosia looked past 
  Rohmer’s twitching body and saw Davran slumped 
  against the wall across the room, pressing a hand 
  against an angry welt on his forehead. 
  Davran wobbled across the floor to Kosia. He 
  pulled her to him, squeezing her tightly. She lay stiffly 
  in his arms for a moment, but then he felt first one arm, 
  then another slowly, fearfully crawl across his back, 
  until she at last returned his embrace. 
  “I don’t need you to save me,” Kosia whispered. 
  Davran pulled halfway about of their embrace so 
  he could see Kosia’s face. “I didn’t save you,” he 
  whispered back. 
  It was only then that he noticed the seared wound 
  running through Kosia’s side. As he started to panic, 
  Kosia shook her head dismissively. “It’s not as bad as it 
  looks,” she whispered. “I’ve had worse.” She smiled 
  weakly. “I think I’ll live.” 
  Rohmer twitched again. Davran looked at the 
  warped body coldly. “I think he might live too.” 
  Kosia stared at the axe blade still jutting from 
  Rohmer’s back. “You could fix that.” 
  Davran pondered this. “No, I don’t think so.” He 
  smiled grimly. “There’s a better way.” 
  ! ! ! 
  Rohmer sat in a weak light cast by the ring of 
  candles that surrounded him. He had been in this 
  chamber before, though it was too dark to make out its 
  details now. A collar of heavy chains bound him to that 
  floor, leaving him unable to stand. 
  Davran knelt alone in the center of a wooded 
  grove. A ring of men and women—both bandits that 
  called the western woods their homes, and the Knights 
  of the Shadows who called it home for only one day a 
  year—surrounded him, murmuring to each other and 
  watching him with expectant eyes. 
  A heavy door opened on well-oiled hinges. Lantern 
  light from the hall briefly spilled over the instruments 
  of pain in the chamber, and Rohmer started to tremble. 
  An armored woman stepped through the door, closing it 
  behind her. Rohmer looked up into the shadowed face 
  of Lady Elena Faith-hold. 
  Gondegal stepped forward from the ring of 
  observers, striding forward to stand before Davran. He 
  beckoned for Davran to rise. 
  Elena paced back and forth at the limits of the 
  candlelight. Her face was taut and dour. “I cannot say 
  how sad I am to see you here again, Rohmer. I held 
  such . . . high hopes for you. You responded so well to 
  your reeducation. I thought you had such . . . potential.” 
  “Let it be known this day,” proclaimed Gondegal 
  to the gathered crowd, “that another virtuous man has 
  petitioned to join the Circle.” He nodded to Davran. 
  “Announce your name to the assembly.” He smiled.  
   “I know I’ve withheld vital details from you, my 
  lady,” pleaded Rohmer. “But I swear I thought I was 
  doing right. Ebonbane is real, I swear it upon all that’s 
  holy. And I know how to free it, so that you can destroy 
  it! Don’t you see?” Rohmer searched Elena’s eyes for 
  mercy. All he found were the traces of tears. 
  Gondegal turned to the assembly and asked them if 
  any knight would sponsor the neophyte’s petition. One 
  knight quickly stepped forward, marching forward to 
  join Davran in the center of the gathered ring. Davran 
  smiled as we watched his veiled sponsor approach. 
  Kosia confirmed her pledge to the assembly. Her eyes 
  were sparkling. 
  Rohmer wept, his tears thick and black. “I don’t 
  know what else to say,” he sobbed. “I don’t know what 
  else I can do to make you believe me.” 
  Gondegal presented Davran with the emblem of the 
  eclipsed sun. Gondegal was beaming. “I now proclaim 
  you a full Knight of the Circle.” 
  Elena stopped pacing. She stepped closer, and held 
  up a small mirror at Rohmer’s level. “Tell me why I 
  would believe anything said by one of these.” Rohmer 
  looked at his reflection with growing horror. He 
  recoiled from his own face—from the tight gray flesh, 
  from the maw of fangs, from the dead black eyes. 
  Kosia squeezed Davran’s arm. “Congratulations,” 
  she said. “So, now what do you want to do?” 
   “Everything I have ever done,” wept Rohmer, still 
  pleading to his pacing lady, “I did for the love of you!” 
  Elena froze in her tracks. As she stared at the ghoul, he 
  shrank in terror from the expression on her face. 
  Davran took Kosia’s hand in his own and smiled. 
  “I think I’d like to see what your part of the world looks 
  like.” 
  Elena leaned in closely, scrutinizing Rohmer’s 
  face. “Why?” she spat. “Why do you abominations 
  continually torment me with these . . . perverse oaths of 
  love? Do you take some kind of sick pleasure in it?” 
  Rohmer remained silent. He had nothing left to say. 
  “Every time I listen to one of you things, I can feel the 
  filth collecting on me! Like your very words infect me 
  with plague! Enough!” Elena suddenly drew her sword. 
  “I need to free us both from your perversion.” 
  Davran and Kosia walked together out of the 
  wooded grove, towards a waiting Vistani vardo. The 
  ring of observers dissolved around them, applauding. 
  Together, they ventured out into a wider world. 
  Rohmer looked up one last time at the angelic face 
  of the woman he loved. “Elena, please,” he pleaded. 
  “Love is what makes us human.” Rohmer saw Elena’s 
  sword arc through the island of candlelight, shimmering 
  like a silver smile. Then the darkness flowed in. 
  ! 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: INTERLUDE 
  175 
  October 31st, 1938. 
  Los Angeles. 
  !"#$!"#$!"#$!"#$!"#$!"#$!"#$!"#$ 
  [Due to continuing snafus, the Masque framing fiction is not yet ready. We hope to insert in in the book within a 
  week. Thank you for your continued understanding. –ed.] 
  ! 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RUNNING GOTHIC EARTH 
  176 
  SHADOWS OF  
  BLUE AND GRAY 
  A Complete Adventure for Gothic Georgia 
  By Jaleigh Johnson 
  jaleigh@atwood-il.com 
   
  BIOGRAPHY 
  Journal Entry 
  June 17, 1863 
  y sense of anxiety is growing as we 
  march. It has been a long trek, and the 
  looming threat of the enemy, lurking somewhere in 
  front of us, unseen, has not helped to ease my 
  mind. I have been two years in the fighting, and in 
  all that time I have never felt such a great, 
  compelling weight of dread settle so firmly in my 
  belly. My companions have said it is nerves, only. 
  They say I ought not to go looking for my own 
  death, lest it come for me sooner than necessary. 
  They believe that to be the source of my worry, and 
  maybe they’re right. Still, I can’t help but feel that 
  something waits for me just up the road, or behind 
  the next tree. Like a dark shadow following us 
  into each battle, waiting to make its presence known 
  to me. Lack of sleep must be clouding my sense, to 
  ramble so, but I find it helps. I have still not 
  received word from Andrew since our parting of 
  ways. Circumstances being what they are, I should 
  not be surprised, but I would still like to know that 
  he is well. I miss him very much at times like 
  these. 
  —Joel Ashburn 
  Appearance 
  Joel Ashburn is a tall, lanky eighteen-year-old, with a 
  gentle face and light blond hair. He appears much as he 
  did at the moment of his death, dressed in the uniform 
  of a Confederate lieutenant. A bayonet wound stains the 
  chest of his frayed coat dark with blood. Andrew 
  Cadwell, his best friend, is the same age and physical 
  build, but is otherwise a sharp contrast to Joel. He 
  wears a perpetually hawk-like, glowering expression 
  and has sharp green eyes hidden beneath bushy black 
  M 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RUNNING GOTHIC EARTH 
  177 
  brows. He wears the blue uniform of a Union officer, 
  and a fatal musket wound has been dealt to his back. 
  Joel Ashburn 
  2nd Magnitude Ghost, mutable, Chaotic Good 
  Armor Class 
  1 (6*) 
   
  Str  
  N/A 
  Movement 
  12  
   
  Dex  
  N/A 
  Hit Dice 
  4   
   
  Con  
  N/A 
  Hit Points 
  20  
   
  Int  
  16 
  THAC0 
  16  
   
  Wis  
  14 
  No. of Attacks 
  1 
   
   
  Cha  
  14 
  Morale 
  14  
   
  XP  
  4,000 
  Damage/Attack 
  See below 
  Special Attacks 
  See below 
  Special Defenses 
  Hit only by weapons of +1 
  enchantment or higher 
  Special Vulnerabilities 
  Unable to attack Andrew 
  directly 
  Magic Resistance 
  Nil 
  *AC vs. ethereal opponents 
  Andrew Cadwell 
  2nd Magnitude Ghost, mutable, Chaotic Evil 
  Armor Class 
  –1 (6*)  
  Str  
  N/A 
  Movement 
  12  
   
  Dex  
  N/A 
  Hit Dice 
  5 
   
   
  Con  
  N/A 
  Hit Points 
  28  
   
  Int  
  17 
  THAC0 
  16  
   
  Wis  
  15 
  No. of Attacks 
  1 
   
   
  Cha  
  11 
  Morale 
  14  
   
  XP  
  4,000 
  Damage/Attack 
  See Below 
  Special Attacks 
  See Below 
  Special Defense 
  Hit only by weapons of +1 
  enchantment or higher 
  Special Vulnerabilities 
  See Below 
  Magic Resistance 
  Nil 
  *AC vs. ethereal opponents 
  Background 
  Born in 1845, no more than a month apart, Joel 
  Ashburn and Andrew Cadwell grew up together in the 
  city of Savanna, Georgia, both sons of respected 
  families. The Ashburns and the Cadwells lived side by 
  side, and, as Andrew had no siblings—and Joel having 
  only an elder sister, Lucy—the two were friends 
  throughout their childhood. The boys cherished the 
  companionship they found in one another, though on 
  the surface they could not have been more different. 
  Joel was boisterous, kind and well mannered, even 
  at a young age. His gentleness and contagious smile 
  made him quite popular with the ladies as he grew 
  older. But above all else, Joel loved his family, his 
  friend, Andrew, and his home in Savanna. 
  Andrew was known to be rash and ill tempered, 
  and was possessed of an inescapable restlessness. He 
  was impatient with the pace of life in Savanna, and the 
  ways of the people who lived there. More than 
  anything, he wanted to move on, but the bond he shared 
  with Joel kept him in Savanna. When both boys turned 
  sixteen, Andrew tried to convince his best friend to 
  travel north with him. At that time, tensions between 
  the states had built to a breaking point, and when 
  Georgia seceded from the Union in January of 1861, the 
  boys could no longer ignore the fact that their lives had 
  reached a fateful turning point. 
  Andrew, to the shock of his family and friends, 
  announced his intentions to join the Union Army, 
  urging Joel to follow in his footsteps. But Joel’s loyalty 
  lay with his family and home, in Savanna. He joined the 
  9th Georgia regiment, under the command of Brigadier 
  General George T. Anderson in June of 1861. Anger 
  and betrayal burned in Andrew that even his best friend 
  was set against him. He cursed Joel for a traitor and left 
  to go north. 
  Joel’s heartache at these words—and the 
  knowledge that they could be the last ever exchanged 
  between them—was nothing compared to Andrew’s 
  fury. It festered for two long and horror filled years as 
  the war carried them both through one battle to the 
  next—grew into a driving hatred as Andrew slowly rose 
  up the ranks to become an officer in the Army of the 
  Potomac. He began to prowl each battleground almost 
  hungrily as the summer of 1863 drew nearer, waiting 
  for some sign of the 9th Georgia, and his enemy. 
  His wish was granted on the evening of July 2nd, 
  1863, as confederate soldiers of the Army of Northern 
  Virginia stormed the Wheat field at Gettysburg, on their 
  push to take the high ground away from the Union 
  army. 
  Joel’s regiment was in the thick of the fight, and 
  Joel did not see his former friend cutting a steady swath 
  through the battle toward him. The last sight to meet 
  Joel’s living eyes was that of his closest friend’s face, 
  alight with a terrible expression of triumph and 
  satisfaction as he plunged a bayonet deep into Joel’s 
  chest. At almost the same instant, a musket ball took 
  Andrew in the back, and the boys died together on the 
  same battlefield. 
  News of the boys’ deaths reached their respective 
  families, but neither knew the circumstances that had 
  brought it about. To ease the pain of loss for both 
  families, when the war ended, a stone statue was 
  erected in the large ornamental garden that linked the 
  houses of the two families. It depicted two young and 
  bright-eyed boys—Andrew and Joel as children. The 
  families remained close, long after the war, and the 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RUNNING GOTHIC EARTH 
  178 
  story of Joel and Andrew’s friendship is still related in 
  Savanna today by those who knew the Ashburns. 
  Unfortunately, Joel and Andrew’s spirits did not 
  remain at rest. Andrew, his hatred traveling beyond 
  even death, rose as a powerful ghost soon after the war 
  ended. But he was drawn back home to Savanna by an 
  irresistible force. His fury ignited once more upon 
  seeing the statue, a permanent symbol of a friendship 
  he’d destroyed, and a physical anchor for his spirit. 
  Despite his anger, Andrew’s spirit could never venture 
  far from the statue, or his home. Frustrated and restless, 
  much as he had been in life, Andrew’s only recourse 
  was to lash out against those nearest at hand—Joel’s 
  family. 
  Perhaps because of the violent nature of his death, 
  or, more likely, owing to his deep and abiding love for 
  his family, Joel’s spirit also rose—weaker, but much 
  the same—to join his former friend as a ghost, and 
  protect his family from harm at Andrew’s hands. 
  Realizing the danger Andrew’s vengeful spirit 
  posed to his family and descendants, Joel devised a plan 
  to imprison his former friend. He learned that he too, 
  was bound to the land where the boys had spent their 
  childhood, but Andrew in particular seemed unable to 
  resist the area in and around the statue in the garden. Its 
  presence continued to incense him. Joel also discovered 
  that Andrew could not stand to go near anything having 
  to do with the battlefield where he had lost his life. 
  Using this information, and his new powers, Joel 
  managed to charm the family’s gardener, for he would 
  not be able to carry out his plan himself. He instructed 
  the aging man to retrieve a number of large stones from 
  the battleground at Gettysburg and bring them back to 
  Georgia. 
  The gardener completed his task in secret, 
  returning to the statue where Andrew’s spirit restlessly 
  lingered. He buried the stones in a narrow circle around 
  the statue’s base, and planted kudzu and other thick, 
  obscuring plants over the spot to cover what he’d done. 
  When Andrew realized what Joel had done, it was too 
  late; he was trapped in the circle, unable to leave the 
  tiny plot of land around the statue. 
  His family now safe—or so he thought—Joel fell 
  dormant, content to watch his family and their 
  descendants live out their lives without any 
  interference. He had no idea that a curious pair of twins 
  would unwittingly undermine all that he had done. 
  Combat 
  As ghosts, Joel and Andrew are now immune to all 
  manner of biological spells, and can become invisible 
  and pass through solid objects at will. 
  Being a second magnitude ghost, Andrew 
  rejuvenates to full hit points at will in one round, 
  leaving him unable to perform any action for 45 
  minutes. He can be harmed only by magical weapons of 
  +1 enchantment or higher. Andrew also has the ability 
  to cause fear at a –2 penalty, and charm person as per 
  the spell. Andrew has a strange and paralyzing fear of 
  anything to do with the battlefield upon which he was 
  killed, including everything from the weapons and 
  objects present that day, to the very stones and earth he 
  walked upon. Any weapons used on the battlefield that 
  day are capable of harming him, inflicting twice their 
  normal damage if a successful attack is made. 
  Although also a second magnitude ghost, Joel 
  appears to be physically weaker than Andrew. This may 
  be due in part to his gentle nature, which has remained 
  a part of him even after death. He is also reluctant to 
  use his powers unless absolutely necessary, and can 
  never use them to attack Andrew directly. He can be 
  harmed only by magical weapons of +1 enchantment or 
  higher and can rejuvenate to full hit points at will in one 
  round, but is left unable to perform any action for 45 
  minutes. Joel’s powers include the ability to charm 
  person as per the spell, and to drain memories for a 
  period of 1d10 x 10 days. Unlike Andrew, he has no 
  aversion to the places and things associated with his 
  death, despite the violent circumstances under which he 
  died. 
  Personality 
  Joel is as caring and kind in death as he was in life, but 
  very distant and sad. The boisterous light has left his 
  eyes, and his only concern now is to insure the 
  protection of his remaining family. He is single-minded 
  in that pursuit, as it is the only reason his spirit remains. 
  His family is his physical anchor; while they or any of 
  his descendants remain alive, he will not rest. 
  Andrew retains his intense hatred of Joel, and that 
  hatred has now extended to include all of his family. He 
  knows that the best way to torment and punish Joel is to 
  strike at them. Since his imprisonment, Andrew has 
  done nothing but bide his time and wait for an 
  opportunity to escape. He finds this opportunity in 
  young Melissa and Samuel Hampton. 
  SHADOWS OF BLUE 
  AND GRAY 
  his adventure is designed for 3–4 characters, 
  levels 4–6. The focus of the adventure is on 
  the descendants of Joel Ashburn. The heroes 
  will become involved in an investigation 
  into the kidnapping of nine-year-old Melissa Hampton, 
  daughter of Tom and Ellen Hampton. (Ellen is the 
  eldest daughter of Lucy, Joel Ashburn’s sister.) 
  T 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RUNNING GOTHIC EARTH 
  179 
  Along the way, the heroes will uncover the truth 
  behind the deaths of Joel and Andrew, even as they are 
  drawn into the conflict that still rages between the two 
  beyond death. This time, however, the lives of Joel’s 
  descendants, Melissa and her twin brother Samuel, are 
  at stake. 
  Adventure Setup 
  The Hamptons enlist the aid of the heroes at the request 
  of Ellen’s mother, Lucy. Lucy, Joel’s only sibling and 
  the last surviving family member who knew him, 
  suspects that there may be a connection between Joel 
  and Andrew’s death and the young twins, Melissa and 
  Samuel. She has not revealed this to the Hamptons, but 
  rather has suggested that they look elsewhere for help 
  in finding Melissa, as the police have no leads, and the 
  family has received no demand for any type of ransom. 
  The heroes may become involved by reputation—
  perhaps through a detective character—or through a 
  mutual acquaintance of the Hamptons. Either way, they 
  will be traveling to the city of Savanna, Georgia. 
  The Whole Story 
  The Dungeon Master should refer to this section for a 
  synopsis of the events leading up to Melissa’s 
  disappearance, and the truth behind her abduction. 
  Approximately three weeks before the kidnapping, 
  Melissa and Samuel began spending more time playing 
  in the garden behind their house. Melissa, in particular, 
  took a keen interest in the statue of Joel and Andrew, 
  while Samuel quickly grew bored and lost interest. She 
  began to imagine that the statue could speak, and would 
  whisper secrets to her and share in her imaginary 
  games. 
  In reality, Andrew was speaking to the girl from 
  his prison, remaining invisible so as not to frighten her 
  away. Eventually, he managed to cast a charm over the 
  child, and instructed her to unearth the stones that held 
  him prisoner. 
  For nearly three weeks he forced her to dig—
  clearing away the weeds and flowers as she went—with 
  painstaking care, so as not to exhaust her small body 
  and arouse the suspicions of her parents and Joel. 
  Joel did find out, however, and managed to 
  intervene before Melissa could unwittingly set Andrew 
  free. The furious spirit materialized inside his prison, 
  but could only watch as Joel took Melissa away to 
  safety. Young Samuel was also witness to the 
  kidnapping—having come running at his sister’s 
  scream—but was unable to do anything except look on 
  in fear at the sight of the two ghosts. 
  Joel has kept Melissa safe and hidden away at the 
  cemetery where he was laid to rest, in an old and little-
  used caretaker’s cottage. Up until the heroes’ arrival, 
  Joel will be watching and waiting for more treachery 
  from Andrew. If the heroes prove themselves willing to 
  protect his family, Joel will eventually seek their help. 
  The Adventure Begins 
  When the heroes arrive in Savanna, they are easily 
  directed to what the townspeople now refer to as simply 
  the Ashburn homes. The Cadwells passed away some 
  time after the Civil War, and now both houses belong to 
  Ashburn descendants. The Hamptons reside in the 
  Cadwell house, while Lucy—now a widow—lives in 
  her parents’ former home. As the heroes approach the 
  Hampton residence, read the following aloud: 
  An elegant, two-story country house rises up in front of 
  you, flanked on either side by towering hedges that 
  wind around towards the back of the house. A wrought 
  iron fence and unlocked gate encase the yard. 
  Mounting the steps to the broad porch, the door swings 
  open before you can reach it, to reveal a rather thin, 
  sallow-faced man. He appears strained and distracted, 
  but gestures for you to enter. “We’ve been expecting 
  you,” he says without preamble. 
  The man introduces himself as Tom Hampton, and 
  invites the heroes into a small sitting room situated off 
  the front hall, closing the door behind him to insure 
  privacy. He explains that many of the residents of 
  Savanna have been stopping in to express their 
  sympathy and inquire about Melissa. His wife is 
  entertaining another such visitor at that moment. Some 
  come out of genuine concern, others come for curiosity 
  or gossip’s sake. Therefore, he does not wish it to 
  become public knowledge that his family has decided to 
  bring in outside help, for fear of angering the police. He 
  will insist that the heroes stay with them instead of 
  finding other accommodations, but asks that they tell 
  anyone who inquires that they are friends of the family, 
  and not reveal that they have joined in the search for 
  Melissa. 
  “Lucy insisted upon bringing you here after the second 
  week,” Tom explains wearily. “Not that I’m ungrateful 
  for your help, of course not. My mother-in-law, you see. 
  Wonderful woman—none finer, in fact—but she has 
  strange ideas . . . doesn’t think like most people.” 
  The muffled opening and closing of the front door 
  interrupts conversation, and signals the departure of the 
  guests. Afterwards, Ellen will join them in the sitting 
  room. She, like her husband, looks pale and drawn from 
  worry. The two can give little information about what 
  happened the day the kidnapping took place; the closest 
  person they have to a witness is Melissa’s twin brother, 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RUNNING GOTHIC EARTH 
  180 
  Samuel. With Ellen’s permission, the heroes are 
  allowed to question the boy themselves about what 
  happened. They are also invited to examine the scene of 
  the crime: the garden and the area surrounding the 
  statue. Should they decide to do this first, skip down to 
  The Garden/Crime Scene, if not, continue on to 
  Samuel. 
  Samuel 
  The heroes are cautioned by Tom to be gentle with 
  young Samuel. It seems that since the evening of the 
  kidnapping, the boy has been plagued with nightmares, 
  though he claims to have no memory of them in the 
  morning hours. 
  Tom will lead the heroes up a polished wood 
  staircase to the upper rooms. The twins share a large 
  bed/playroom at the end of the hall, with large airy 
  windows letting in the sunlight. Samuel, a small boy 
  with sugar-blond hair and shadowed eyes, is sitting 
  ensconced in a window seat in the corner, looking down 
  at the garden below. 
  The shock of glimpsing the ghostly forms of 
  Andrew and Joel, combined with his sister’s 
  kidnapping, has caused Samuel to block the events of 
  that evening from his mind. However, he is not being 
  entirely truthful about his nightmares. He does 
  remember them, but has been too frightened of the 
  images he sees to tell anyone except his grandmother, 
  Lucy. 
  With careful questioning, the heroes can pick up 
  the following details about the evening of the 
  kidnapping. 
  # The twins were playing in the garden shortly 
  before their mother called them inside for the night. 
  # They were not playing together; Lately, Melissa 
  had been venturing off by herself in the garden to 
  play, which left Samuel surprised and hurt, though 
  he tries to hide it. 
  # Just as Ellen was calling the twins inside from the 
  doorway to the back porch, Melissa’s scream rang 
  out from somewhere among the bushes near the 
  statue. (Samuel will point to the statue of Joel and 
  Andrew through the window. It is clearly visible, 
  and, eerily, the boys’ faces almost seem to be 
  looking straight up at them.) 
  # Samuel ran to the spot where the scream had come 
  from, but claims he saw no one, and no sign of his 
  sister except for a torn and dirt-stained piece of her 
  dress. 
  # The plants and earth around the statue were 
  disturbed, as if a frantic struggle had taken place. 
  Tom and Ellen can provide the last detail; they 
  arrived at the scene shortly after. They found Samuel on 
  the ground near the statue and the torn up earth, 
  shivering violently and clutching the bit of Melissa’s 
  dress. 
  Should the heroes take the time to look around the 
  playroom, they will note that in an otherwise 
  impeccably tidy room, there are dark dirt smudges in 
  the form of child’s fingerprints covering several of the 
  toys in the room, most noticeably on a wooden rocking 
  horse and doll house. (Melissa left the marks when she 
  failed to wash her hands from her digging in the 
  garden.) Samuel does not know how they came to be 
  there; the horse and dollhouse are Melissa’s toys. 
  Throughout the entire interview, Samuel continues 
  to glance out the window at the statue in the garden. If 
  the heroes work hard enough to put him at ease and 
  gain his trust he will confide to them that the statue 
  actually frightens him more than a little. Read the 
  following aloud: 
  “Melissa liked it; she said it looked peaceful . . . 
  friendly. I don’t. Statues are cold, hard and not friendly 
  at all. Sometimes, when I’m around it, I imagine I can 
  hear it whispering to me. I never stay long enough to 
  hear what it’s saying though. I’m afraid to.” 
  The Garden/Crime Scene 
  The garden itself is unremarkable, fenced in naturally 
  by tall hedges and providing a connection between the 
  Ashburn and Cadwell houses. The statue is stone and 
  stands out in the center of the garden. Except for a bit 
  of weather damage, it looks much the same as it did the 
  day it was erected. 
  As described, the heroes find that, on the surface, 
  the area around the statue’s base seems to have seen 
  signs of a struggle of some kind. There are several 
  patches of loose soil, and wild weeds have been pulled 
  up and scattered. If the heroes investigate thoroughly, 
  they will discover the evidence of Melissa’s digging, 
  suggesting that perhaps no struggle took place, and the 
  ground was disturbed on purpose. 
  Aside from this, the heroes find no other evidence 
  or clues, and the statue does not appear to be anything 
  out of the ordinary. Of course, Tom and Ellen can tell 
  the story behind the statue, but they dismiss Samuel’s 
  fears about it as a child’s imaginings. As they are 
  searching, however, an observant hero may notice an 
  elderly woman watching them from an upstairs window 
  of the Ashburn house. It is Lucy, and she appears quite 
  agitated. If the heroes do not pay her a visit, she will 
  seek them out and request an audience. 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RUNNING GOTHIC EARTH 
  181 
  Meeting Lucy 
  Lucy Ashburn, (married name: Cameron) lives alone, 
  her children grown and she having been a widow for 
  several years. Instead of receiving them in her parlor, 
  the elderly woman ushers the heroes upstairs to the 
  master bedroom, where she seats them around an old 
  and dented trunk kept at the foot of her canopied bed. 
  Even if the heroes have not already spoken to 
  Samuel at this point, Lucy will confide to them that 
  Samuel told her a little of what he could remember 
  about his nightmares, and that he has been too 
  frightened to tell anyone else about them. Read the 
  following aloud to the heroes: 
  “I could see he was frightened and confused. He wasn’t 
  going to tell me at all—wouldn’t have told me—if it 
  weren’t for this.” She lifts the sagging lid of the trunk 
  so that all of you can look inside. Atop piles of Lucy’s 
  personal effects rests a saber sword and a water-
  stained journal. Folded neatly to one side is a faded, 
  patch-covered confederate uniform. “Samuel and 
  Melissa both like to explore the odd corners of this 
  house. Samuel happened upon Joel’s personal effects a 
  few days ago. He told me it was the same—at first I 
  didn’t understand—that he saw these things in his 
  nightmare.” 
  If the heroes have not already heard the tale of 
  Andrew and Joel, Lucy will relate it to them, but will 
  add her own suspicions about the cause of Joel’s death. 
  She alone suspected Andrew of having a dark heart, and 
  even now she is haunted by the knowledge that Andrew 
  may have killed Joel himself. To support her theory, 
  she shows the heroes the journal entry (found at the 
  beginning of the article) Joel made just before his death. 
  Believing that there is some strange connection 
  between Joel, Andrew and the twins, Lucy asks that the 
  heroes look after Samuel as well as continue in their 
  search for Melissa. 
  Meeting Joel 
  At some point during their search, the heroes will be 
  confronted with the ghostly form of Joel, who is 
  keeping watch over the events that are taking place at 
  the Hampton home. Depending upon what actions the 
  heroes take, Joel could be a friend or a dangerous 
  adversary, if he perceives his family to be in danger in 
  any way. 
  This encounter should occur at night, away from 
  the two houses—eliminating the possibility of Joel 
  being seen by his family. 
  A boy, no more than seventeen or eighteen, steps from 
  the shadows, his flesh drained of all living warmth. It 
  strikes you that he has the same sugar-blond hair as 
  Samuel, and similar eyes. He is dressed in a tattered 
  uniform that is stained dark with blood down the front 
  from an ugly wound in his chest. 
  Unless he is given a reason to mistrust the heroes, 
  Joel will reveal to them that he was responsible for 
  kidnapping Melissa—for her own safety, of course. He 
  can confirm Lucy’s suspicions about Andrew and his 
  own death and further explains the circumstances 
  behind Andrew’s imprisonment and the spirit’s plot to 
  break free, using Melissa. Despite the fact that he 
  shows great remorse for having abducted the young 
  girl, he will not reveal where he has hidden her away, 
  nor will he return her until he is certain she will be safe 
  from Andrew. Knowing the truth about the events 
  which led to Melissa’s kidnapping, (revealed in The 
  Whole Story) the heroes—and Joel, as he will insist on 
  seeing to his family’s safety—will have the dual tasks 
  of battling Andrew and saving Samuel. By now, the 
  boy will have also been charmed into aiding in 
  Andrew’s escape, and this time, the spirit means to 
  succeed. 
  Resolution 
  When the heroes and Joel arrive at the statue in the 
  garden, they will find that Samuel has just finished 
  removing the last stone that imprisons Andrew, 
  unleashing his furious spirit. 
  The two greatest weapons the heroes have to use 
  against Andrew are his fear and his obsession. The 
  heroes can retrieve the saber from among Joel’s 
  personal effects—its presence on the battlefield at 
  Gettysburg causes it to inflict double the weapon’s 
  normal damage against Andrew. Or, the heroes may 
  elect to destroy the statue, which serves as Andrew’s 
  true physical anchor to this world. His spirit will 
  dissipate permanently if it is destroyed. 
  It is important to note that Joel will shield Samuel 
  from any harm at Andrew’s hands, and will also protect 
  Lucy, Tom and Ellen—the battle will very likely draw 
  them out to the garden—but he is unable or unwilling to 
  attack Andrew directly, even now. He will therefore be 
  of no help to the heroes in combating the spirit. When 
  Andrew’s spirit finally dissolves, Joel’s eyes reflect a 
  terrible sadness. 
  When he is certain of his family’s safety, Joel will 
  return Melissa to them. She is unharmed, if a little 
  confused. Joel has used his powers to erase her 
  memories of the trauma of the past few weeks—
  something he will also do for Samuel. 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: RUNNING GOTHIC EARTH 
  182 
  Recurrence 
  With the threat to his family gone, Joel will retreat to 
  the shadows once more, unable to relinquish the role of 
  protector he has taken up. It is therefore possible that 
  the heroes could cross paths with the spirit and the 
  Hampton family again, should they have reason to 
  return to Savanna. 
  Historical Resources 
  Gettysburg: A Battlefield Atlas, by Craig L. Symonds 
  (Cartography by William J. Clipson) The Nautical & 
  Aviation Publishing Company of America, 1992. ISBN: 
  1-877853-16-x. 
  (A narrative history and chapter-by-chapter 
  recounting of each engagement at the battle of 
  Gettysburg, with cartographic display.) 
  Web Site: Military History Online—Battle of 
  Gettysburg 
  http://www.militaryhistoryonline.com/gettysburg/misc/
  csaunits.htm 
   (Contains regimental histories, muster rolls, links 
  to various reenactor pages): 
  Author’s Note: While the historical information is 
  presented as accurately as possible, the characters of 
  Joel and Andrew and their part in the Civil War are 
  entirely fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons is 
  purely coincidental. 
  ! 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: GOTHIC EARTH PEOPLE 
  183 
  DANYLO DENISOVICH 
  ZNÁMIA 
  A Cold-Hearted Killer in Gothic Russia 
  By Daniel Bandera 
  daniel.j.bandera@us.pwcglobal.com 
   
  BIOGRAPHY 
  n a little-traveled pass through the snow-
  covered Valdai Hills between St. Petersburg 
  and Moscow a strange phenomenon has 
  been reported. Ice sculptures in the shape of 
  a beautiful woman are sculpted by an unknown being. 
  The sculptures appear to be of the same woman, but her 
  pose and express change with each new statue. The 
  statues melt just like regular ice, but new statues always 
  reappear in the same vale. The story behind the tortured 
  soul that carves these statues is shrouded in the snow-
  covered wilderness of Russia.  
  Danylo Známia 
  Arayashka (Snow Wraith), Neutral Evil 
  Armor Class 
  3 
   
   
   
  Str  
  — 
  Movement 
  9 
   
   
   
  Dex  
  — 
  Level/Hit Dice 
  5 
   
   
   
  Con  
  — 
  Hit Points 
  31  
   
   
  Int  
  16 
  THAC0 
  15  
   
   
  Wis  
  13 
  No. of Attacks 
  1 
   
   
   
  Cha  
  9 
  Morale 
  17  
   
   
  XP  
  975 
  Damage/Attack 
  1d6+1 
  Special Attacks 
  Chilling touch, drain heat 
  Special Defenses 
  Undead immunities, hit only by 
  +1 or better weapons. 
  Magic Resistance 
  Nil 
  Appearance 
  From a distance Danylo appears as a gray, misty 
  shadow about the size of a man. On closer scrutiny, his 
  features become apparent. He is a man, about nineteen 
  years old, with collar-length blond hair. He is dressed in 
  a simple shirt and pants typical of a Russian peasant, 
  but he wears no hat, gloves, or boots. His hands and 
  feet bear a slightly lighter color than the rest of his 
  body, due to the frostbite he suffered before his death. 
  Background 
  Since the age of twelve, Danylo had been in love with 
  Irena Vishnayev. They lived in the small village of 
  Vyshni, in the Valdai Hills, outside of St. Petersburg. 
  Irena was four years older than Danylo, and she found 
  his affections cute, but did not take his attention 
  seriously. When Irena turned eighteen, her parents 
  arranged for her to marry Anatoly Nashinkov. Danylo 
  was bitterly disappointed. Before the wedding could 
  take place, Anatoly was called to fight in Czarina 
  Catherine’s army. As Anatoly’s absence grew from 
  weeks to months, Danylo spent more and more time 
  with Irena. He believed he was winning her over, but in 
  reality she continued to see him as the little boy who 
  followed her around. For three years this went on, and 
  Danylo assumed, like most in the village, that Anatoly 
  had been killed in the war. 
  When he was old enough, Danylo got a job 
  working for the town’s boyar as a laborer. One of his 
  duties was to help transport goods to the market in St. 
  Petersburg. In the late fall of Danylo’s nineteenth year, 
  he was in St. Petersburg when a harsh winter storm hit 
  the area. It threatened to force him and his fellow 
  laborers to spend the winter in St. Petersburg. Danylo 
  was distraught. He knew that Irena would be alone all 
  winter, a very dangerous time, and thought of himself 
  as the only one who could take care of her. 
  Once the storm let up slightly, he told his fellows 
  he was returning to Vyshni. Slowly he made his way 
  back to the village, stopping well before nightfall at 
  roadside inns. Three days into his journey, he had 
  reached the Valdai Hills and stopped for the night at the 
  Vóron Cherdák Inn. Another storm, stronger than the 
  I 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: GOTHIC EARTH PEOPLE 
  184 
  first, was descending on the area, and Danylo knew he 
  might well be stranded at the inn for a few days. 
  That night the few patrons at the inn were 
  preparing to wait out the storm there, and the family 
  who ran the inn made arrangements to accommodate 
  their guests. All were surprised when Danylo knocked 
  on the inn’s door and asked for shelter for the night, but 
  he was welcomed nonetheless. It was shortly before 
  nightfall, that the large storm fury was unleashed, and 
  the small valley in which the inn nestled was soon 
  surrounded by the howling wind and driving snow. 
  Shortly after nightfall, a band of bandits attacked the 
  inn. The desperate bandits were seeking shelter from 
  the harsh storm, and would have died if they had not 
  stumbled upon the inn. After forcing their way into the 
  inn against the protests of the innkeepers, the bandits 
  were not satisfied with only receiving shelter from the 
  storm. They began to ransack the inn for money and 
  valuables. Only Danylo resisted, so the bandits beat 
  him, then they stripped him of his heavy clothing and 
  tossed him out into the winter night. Danylo did not last 
  long and froze to death during the stormy night. 
  Thirteen days later, Danylo became an arayashka, a 
  snow wraith, and began haunting the area around the 
  inn. Almost one year later, Anatoly, Irena’s long lost 
  love, returned to Vyshni. He had distinguished himself 
  in the wars and been promoted to captain of artillery. 
  Anatoly and Irena were married soon thereafter. As 
  they traveled to their new home in St. Petersburg, they 
  stopped at the Vóron Cherdák Inn. Danylo was 
  overjoyed when he realized that Irena was staying at the 
  inn and appeared in her room when night fell. But he 
  was devastated to learn that she had married Anatoly. In 
  a rage, he killed everyone else in the inn with his heat-
  draining ability. Returning to Irena he slew her as well, 
  embracing her as he drained the last of the heat from 
  her body. He did not release his embrace until her body 
  was frozen in a solid block of ice. 
  Current Sketch 
  The Vóron Cherdák Inn is now only a pile of timbers. 
  Ice and snow cover it year-round. Danylo has moved 
  Irena’s ice-covered body to a clearing a short distance 
  into the woods behind the inn. There painstakingly he 
  has carved the ice around her body into a perfect ice 
  sculpture, mirroring Irena’s image beneath, including 
  the look of terror etched on her face at the time of her 
  death. He has repeated to carve images of her into other 
  large chunks of ice, each time presenting Irena in a 
  different pose. Some bear the same terrified expression, 
  but most show her in a variety of happy appearances. 
  These ice sculptures are scattered around his territory, 
  but are mainly concentrated near the clearing. 
  Danylo is anchored to the spot of his death and 
  cannot travel more than 500 feet from the clearing 
  where Irena’s body remains. Due to his obsessive 
  jealously, he will attack any man that enters his domain, 
  or anyone who harms one of his ice sculptures. 
  Personality 
  Danylo seems a calm, peaceful spirit content with 
  carving his ice sculptures. In actuality he is consumed 
  by jealousy and loneliness. The sight of any man that 
  reminds him of Anatoly, brings a killing rage over him. 
  He will immediately attack and kill any man that 
  matches Anatoly’s description. Anatoly was a man with 
  fair skin between the ages of 20 to 35, from 5’10” to 
  6’2” tall, weighing 180–220 lbs., and had dark hair. 
  Danylo will never physically harm a woman other 
  than in self-defense. If he meets a woman resembling 
  Irena, he will approach her in a friendly manner. 
  Admiring her beauty, he will ask if she will model for 
  one of his ice sculptures. If she says yes, Danylo will 
  begin to carve sculptures of her from the ice. Once the 
  statue is finished he will not let her leave, and will want 
  to continue to use her as a model. If she tries to flee, 
  Danylo will be disappointed, not understanding her 
  refusal. His jealous and rage will grow and he will 
  attack her, trying to use his heat draining ability on her. 
  If he succeeds, she will become another model for 
  Danylo, her body trapped in a block of ice, which he 
  will carve to match her image underneath. 
  Combat 
  Danylo attacks in melee with a chilling touch. The 
  victim loses one point of Strength in addition to the 
  damage noted above. Lost Strength points return at the 
  rate of one point per hour. A victim reduced to Strength 
  of 2 collapses and falls unconscious. A character 
  reduced to 0 Strength dies. 
  Danylo also has the ability to drain heat, causing 
  one character within 30 feet to lose 1 hp per round, with 
  no saving throw. Any victim losing more than 50% of 
  his total hit points suffers hypothermia. Danylo can also 
  use this ability to extinguish flames within 30 feet. 
  Danylo can be turned as a wraith. He is immune to 
  all non-magical weapons, but he is vulnerable to fire 
  and heat attacks. Magical fire causes 1 extra point of 
  damage per die rolled against Danylo. Non-magical 
  attacks, such as flaming oil or burning torches, can 
  harm him and inflict an additional 2d4 points of 
  damage. Metal weapons heated in fire inflict 1d4 points 
  of damage to Danylo on a successful hit, but after 
  hitting him twice such a weapon will cool off and no 
  longer harm him. Note that, because of the heat 
  generated when firing a bullet, firearms cause minimal 
  damage to Danylo: 1 hp per die rolled for damage. 
  ! 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: GOTHIC EARTH PEOPLE 
  185 
  SIR ANDREW SINCLAIR 
  A Cruelly Conflicted NPC for Gothic England 
  by Luis Fernando De Pippo 
  zoren55@yahoo.com 
   
  BIOGRAPHY 
  ome people are good because they are born 
  that way. Some are good because their 
  religion tells them that they have to be 
  good, lest they suffer eternal damnation. 
  But some other people, like Sir Andrew Sinclair, are 
  good because they really have no choice. 
  Appearance 
  Sir Andrew Sinclair is a typical English nobleman. He 
  is always dressed in the latest fashions and is a pillar of 
  his community. He keeps a well-trimmed moustache, 
  black as his hair, and uses a monocle in his right eye. 
  He is almost six feet tall and has a face and nature that 
  can only be described as angelic. No one has anything 
  bad to say about him now, but that was not always the 
  case. 
  Sir Andrew Sinclair 
  5th-level Soldier (Explorer), Lawful Good 
  Armor Class 
  10  
   
   
  Str  
  15 
  Movement 
  12  
   
   
  Dex  
  13 
  Level/Hit Dice 
  5 
   
   
   
  Con  
  18 
  Hit Points 
  30  
   
   
  Int  
  12 
  THAC0 
  15  
   
   
  Wis  
  12 
  Morale 
  12  
   
   
  Chr  
  16  
  No. of Attacks 
  By weapon (usually army pistol) 
  Damage/Attack 
  Varies (army pistol 2d6+1) 
  Special Attacks 
  Nil 
  Special Defenses 
  Regenerates 1 hit point every 6 
  hours 
  Special Weakness 
  Can be hurt or killed by hurting 
  or slaying the Beast 
  Magic Resistance 
  Nil 
  Background 
  As a little boy Sir Andrew knew that he would be the 
  greatest explorer known to man. To that end he trained 
  hard every day on the local woods that lead to Little 
  Pond, as the nearby swamp was known. While he 
  trained he was a happy and cheerful child, but alas his 
  happiness was not to last. During one such training trip 
  he caught a lung disease, and its complications left him 
  bedridden and weak as a kitten for two months. 
  When he contracted the disease he felt his world 
  crashing down on him because the doctors told him that 
  he would never be able to exert himself again. After the 
  shocking news, he became bitter and resentful towards 
  the world and everyone in it. After all, if he couldn’t 
  have his dream, then no one would. He started kicking 
  the servants, hitting the maids and killing the house 
  pets. One day he even pushed his father down the flight 
  of stairs at Sinclair manor. 
  Terrified, his parents consulted with the pastor of 
  the local Anglican Church, hoping that he would be 
  able to do something. Fervently the pastor prayed for a 
  miracle, and one apparently occurred. The lung disease 
  afflicting little Andrew was cured (having run its 
  course), but the scars that the disease left on his 
  personality were beyond even the pastor’s ability to 
  heal. Nonetheless, the local Anglican pastor tried to 
  help Andrew, but he could do nothing to make Andrew 
  change his ways, as the bitterness in the boy’s heart 
  overcome the goodness that the clergyman wished to 
  bestow. In the end he pronounced Andrew to be evil 
  and excommunicated him. 
  Andrew became a recluse, going out only when it 
  was absolutely necessary. When Andrew turned 
  twenty-one he became the explorer that he had always 
  wanted to be, but his bitter personality did not lend 
  itself well to the necessary companionship that such 
  explorations require. The bitter explorer was known in 
  such circles as Andrew the Bad Tempered, and other 
  explorers shunned him. 
  S 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: GOTHIC EARTH PEOPLE 
  186 
  One day he decided to visit India, in particular the 
  region of Kashmir, where ancient secrets where 
  supposed to lie. He spent two years on Indian soil and 
  when he returned to England he was a completely 
  changed man. He no longer kicked the servants, he kept 
  pets well fed, and he even treated the peasants with 
  respect. More astonishingly, he also began to frequent 
  the local pub and courted one of the local noble 
  daughters. He became a pillar of his community, and a 
  better person was hard to find in Little Pond. His 
  bitterness was nowhere to be seen and those who knew 
  him said that the change was complete. The only black 
  spot in his personality was in the cage. 
  When he returned from India, he brought a great 
  cage completely covered with canvas. When the cage 
  was transported to his ancient home, inhuman cries and 
  howls could be heard from it. In his manor the entire 
  west wing was dedicated to the cage. Sir Andrew gave 
  orders to the servants that only he was to go to that part 
  of the house. He did not hit the servants that tried to 
  enter, but he did cut their wages in half for any 
  transgressions. He was fair to those who were 
  overcome with curiosity but reminded them that 
  “curiosity killed the cat.” 
  Of course, gossip ran like wildfire among the 
  peasants of Little Pond. Some people said that someone 
  in his travels taught him serenity, likely an ancient 
  order of monks. Others thought that the cage was a ruse 
  for covering the uncountable treasures that he had 
  found during his trip. The enlightened ones thought that 
  he had found Nirvana, while the pessimists said that 
  someday he would release the thing in the cage upon 
  them. They point out that the howling and crying has 
  not stopped, but has since grown. Sir Andrew has 
  always refused to comment on the cage and anything in 
  it, saying that he brought nothing from India but a little 
  curio. But at least twice since he returned from India 
  something has been let loose in the woods of Little 
  Pond, something that kills and eats its victims. 
  Currently, Sir Andrew is intending to host a 
  philosophical congress in Little Pond, with the greatest 
  philosophers of the United Kingdom. He is keen on 
  discussing the nature of “evil” and “good,” with most of 
  the arguments hinging on whether absolute good and 
  evil can exist in man, and whether absolute evil can be 
  redeemed. The philosophers may wonder why the 
  interest, but Sir Andrew has, so far, refused to 
  comment. 
  Also, Sir Andrew is gathering strange materials—
  glass and strange metals. He is building something 
  inside the greenhouse, but no one has been able to see 
  it. The presence of an electrical generator next to the 
  building raises further questions . . . 
  Personality 
  Sir Andrew is the pinnacle of virtue in his community. 
  He never does anything remotely sinful, goes to church 
  every day and acts in a way that can only be defined as 
  benevolent. He supports numerous charitable causes 
  and runs a hospice for orphaned children. A few folk of 
  Little Pond, Sir Andrew’s hometown, still find his 
  behavior quite odd, recalling that Sir Andrew was once 
  the most reviled and hated person in the county. 
  Combat 
  Sir Andrew prefers diplomacy to violence and will only 
  use his pistol as a last resort. He will ask for surrender 
  and will never intentionally kill an opponent. He will 
  remind the combatants that they are breaking the law by 
  attacking a noble of the United Kingdom and will also 
  assure them that they will have a fair trial if they 
  surrender. 
  Forbidden Lore 
  Sir Andrew did bring something back from India—
  something very dark and dangerous, a monster of 
  incredible evil. He brought back himself. 
  During his travels he discovered a hidden complex 
  of caves in Kashmir. Despite the natives’ superstitions, 
  he ventured on, determining to map every corner and 
  search for the secrets that might be buried there. When 
  his guides and porters deserted him, he cursed them and 
  started screaming at the top of his lungs for them to 
  come back, as the cave was surely deserted. 
  Someone, however, lived in the caves and heard 
  him. 
  When he returned from India, Sir Andrew was of 
  two minds—literally. He brought something in a cage, a 
  great secret. Sooner or later, however, someone will 
  discover the secret and the beast will be free to hunt. In 
  fact, that has happened twice as servants unknowingly 
  opened the cage, but Sir Andrew has always managed 
  to recapture the beast. Sir Andrew fears the beast’s 
  escape because everything that happens to his evil twin 
  also happens to him, so he is extremely careful about 
  hurting him or letting others hunt the mysterious 
  creature. 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: GOTHIC EARTH PEOPLE 
  187 
  The Beast 
  Andrew Sinclair, Chaotic Evil 
  Armor Class 
  5 
   
   
   
  Str  
  19 
  Movement 
  15  
   
   
  Dex  
  18 
  Level/Hit Dice 
  5 
   
   
   
  Con  
  18 
  Hit Points 
  30  
   
   
  Int  
  6 
  THAC0 
  12  
   
   
  Wis  
  6 
  Morale 
  18  
   
   
  Chr  
  6 
  No. of Attacks 
  2 
  Damage/Attack 
  1d8*2 (claws) 
  Special Attacks 
  Howl of Madness (forces 
  everyone who hears it to make a 
  madness check) 
  Special Defenses 
  Regenerates 1 hit point every 6 
  hours 
  Special Weakness 
  Can be hurt or killed by hurting 
  or slaying Sir Andrew 
  Magic Resistance 
  100% 
  The Beast is a filthy humanoid creature with claws. 
  Under all the dirt the Beast looks remarkably like Sir 
  Andrew. That is because the Beast is Sir Andrew—the 
  evil half of Sir Andrew. During his trip to India Sir 
  Andrew was subjected to a soul-splitting procedure that 
  left him divided between his good and evil halves. 
  Sir Andrew and the Beast share a link: every 
  wound that one receives is also suffered by the other. 
  Sufficient damage dealt to one of them can kill both. As 
  the Beast is immune to every kind of magic, magical 
  effects such as a charm person do not affect the Beast if 
  cast on Sir Andrew. Damage-dealing spells that affect 
  Sir Andrew, however, also affect the Beast. Killing Sir 
  Andrew in order to slay the Beast is cause for a powers 
  check. 
  The Beast, besides being extremely filthy, can pass 
  as Sir Andrew, but cannot imitate his intelligent and 
  charismatic “brother” effectively. The Beast will use 
  this strategy only if he feels that he cannot physically 
  overcome his attackers. The only physical differences 
  between Andrew and the Beast are the claws that the 
  latter has for hands.  
  Once per day the Beast can howl, forcing everyone 
  within earshot to make a madness check. Sir Andrew is 
  immune to this effect. 
  Current Sketch 
  It has been six months since Sir Andrew returned from 
  India, and he still has little recollection of just what 
  happened there, other than vaguely remembering 
  someone putting him inside a glass globe. The trapped 
  Beast is the only solid evidence of his misadventures  
  there. Early on Andrew discovered that he shares any 
  damage that the Beast suffers. For now, Sir Andrew is 
  content to let the Beast lie in its cage, but he is working 
  on a number of ways to help his evil half and himself. 
  Sir Andrew is in posession of a manual containing 
  the instructions to build an Apparatus. (See the 
  “Apparatus in Masque” below.) Currently he is 
  gathering the materials needed to build it, so he can 
  rejoin with his evil half, on his terms. Sir Andrew 
  knows that his personality, when whole, was 
  despicable, so he is intending to try and keep the good 
  part of himself in control after the process is complete. 
  He has also called the greatest theologians of the 
  United Kingdom, hoping to gain some insight on the 
  nature of pure evil, to better understand his brother. He 
  hopes to temper his evil side with goodness so, when 
  they rejoin, the good side can gain dominance. So far 
  all his efforts to redeem the Beast have been in vain. 
  At the moment, Sir Andrew needs some discreet 
  people to run certain errands for him, getting some 
  strange materials. One such person has recently died 
  horribly in Little Pond and the locals are afraid. Sir 
  Andrew personally led a hunt for their killer, but 
  returned empty handed. He fears that the body was left 
  as a signal to him and has redoubled his efforts to build 
  the Apparatus. 
  The Beast’s motive is straightforward—revenge. 
  He wants to get out of the cage and make Sir Andrew 
  suffer. He knows, however, that he needs to hurt 
  Andrew’s spirit, because he cannot hurt his body. Now 
  he is planning a way to escape and remain free, 
  preferably posing as Sir Andrew so as to ruin his name 
  in the community. The Beast is patient, for now. 
  Adventure Ideas 
  # The heroes arrive in Little Pond and find that a 
  series of murders have rocked the community, and 
  evidence points towards a beast loose in the woods. 
  Sir Andrew, a local respected nobleman, is leading 
  the hunt for the killer and the PCs are asked or 
  hired to help by the mayor. During the hunt Sir 
  Andrew seems extremely reluctant to hurt the 
  marauding creature, planning elaborate traps to 
  capture it instead. The PCs must deal with the 
  consequences of the hunt and the reluctant 
  nobleman. If they go along with Sir Andrew’s plan 
  they will notice how everything done to the Beast 
  affects Sir Andrew as well, and that the Beast is a 
  near twin of the nobleman. Also, if they ignore Sir 
  Andrew’s plan they can choose to kill the Beast, 
  but they will be framed for murder as Sir Andrew’s 
  body will have wounds in it that could have only 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: GOTHIC EARTH PEOPLE 
  188 
  been inflicted by the PC’s weapons (the DM might 
  want to ensure that a peculiar weapon in the 
  possession of the heroes is used to bring down the 
  Beast). 
  # Someone wants to get the manual that Sir Andrew 
  has. Of course, that someone knows about the 
  Beast and will attack the manor in the hopes of 
  stealing the manual while simultaneously freeing 
  the Beast to elude pursuit. The PCs can be involved 
  as bodyguards, protecting Sir Andrew. It may 
  appear to be a pretty straightforward job, but the 
  consequences could lead to a trip to India to 
  recover the manual, as Sir Andrew does not want it 
  to fall into evil hands. 
  # The tables are turned; the Beast manages to gain 
  freedom, and he is certainly not happy. Vowing to 
  destroy everything that Sir Andrew stands for, his 
  first act is to capture his good brother. The mayor 
  of Little Pond hired the PCs to find Sir Andrew 
  when he suddenly goes missing. The PCs find Sir 
  Andrew when they arrive at the manor, but he is 
  completely changed. No longer the perfect 
  gentleman, he behaves aggressively to the point of 
  being rude and insults the PCs. While they stay in 
  town the Beast kidnaps some person close to them 
  and they must deal with the crazed nobleman 
  again. The mayor, suspecting an impostor, also 
  hires the PCs to uncover the reason for “Sir 
  Andrew’s” sudden personality shift. 
  # One of the PCs is the victim of a soul-splitting 
  experiment (either with the Apparatus or by some 
  other method) and the PCs must recover the 
  manual to create an Apparatus and thus reverse the 
  procedure. Through rumor, magic use or tracking, 
  the PCs are led to Sir Andrew, who has possessed 
  the manual ever since the incident in Kashmir. 
  Meanwhile, the PC’s twin heads for the manor to 
  ensure that the manual is never found again. 
  Exploring the manor, this evil twin can discover 
  the Beast and free him so that, working together, 
  they can try to stop the PCs and Sir Andrew. The 
  PCs must fight the twin menace carefully, lest they 
  kill their friends. 
  Forbbiden Lore Appendix: 
  The Apparatus in Masque of 
  the Red Death 
  The Apparatus’ first recorded appearance was in the 
  late 15th Century. No one knows why or how it was 
  used, as both the Apparatus and its creator were 
  destroyed shortly afterwards. Before he died, the 
  unknown creator had come into possession of a manual 
  that provided instructions on building the Apparatus. 
  No one knows where the manual came from or who 
  first created it. This manual, the only one in existence 
  on Gothic Earth, is irrevocably flawed. 
  When an Apparatus is built using the manual’s 
  instructions, the end product does not work as expected. 
  The Apparatus does not work as described in the Realm 
  of Terror boxed set or the Book of Artifacts. The 
  differences in operation between a Ravenloft Apparatus 
  and its Gothic Earth counterpart are summarised below: 
  # Only magical lightning can charge the 
  Apparatus—natural or artificial non-magical 
  electricity, such electricity created by a generator, 
  will not work. 
  # When the soul-splitting power is used, the soul 
  splitting is not complete. Thus, the Apparatus does 
  not produce two complete, individual and distinct 
  beings. Instead, each sundered half is connected 
  with the other via a mystical link that transcends 
  distance. Both creatures can feel the pain of the 
  other and slaying one of them will kill both. The 
  other feels every wound received by the one with 
  the same intensity. They also share a weak 
  empathic link, but they cannot use the link to 
  communicate between themselves. 
  # The Rod of Rastinon is not required to operate the 
  Apparatus on Gothic Earth. All of its powers are 
  accessible to the user, but the power of 
  transpossession cannot be used in Gothic Earth. 
  # The manual cannot be destroyed by any means, and 
  it is always appears to be written in a language that 
  the reader can understand. If subjected to an attack 
  that would destroy it (such as fire) the manual 
  instantly teleports to a random location on Gothic 
  Earth. 
  # Finally, the Apparatus will always explode after it 
  is used. The explosion never harms the victims of 
  the soul split, but is lethal to anyone else caught 
  within 20 feet of the Apparatus. This flaw is not 
  described in the manual. Using the Apparatus to 
  split the soul of a victim on Gothic Earth is an Act 
  of Ultimate Darkness. Using it to restore a victim is 
  cause for a normal powers check. 
  ! 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: GOTHIC EARTH PEOPLE 
  189 
  DAME ALICE KYTELER 
  False Saint, Wicked Mistress 
  by Hugo Viegas Nascimento 
  shadowspawn_the_dragon@hotmail.com 
   
  There are three things in nature, 
  Tongues, Ecclesiastics and Women, 
  which, be it for righteousness of 
  wickedness, know no bounds; whenever 
  they cross the limits of their natural 
  condition, they reach the highest peaks of 
  goodness and the farthest depths of 
  corruption. 
  —J. Sprenger and H. Kramer 
  Malleus Maleficarum 
  Introduction 
  mong uncountable reports of witch trials 
  through the Holy Inquisition, most were 
  mere mistakes committed due to superstition 
  and fear of wise women and village healers, 
  or outright assassinations with the secret purpose of 
  claiming lands and possessions of those who were 
  charged. However, in a few cases, the accused were 
  true spellcasters and, if they did ever find a way of 
  outwitting their captors, the consequent vengeance 
  could be devastating. There is one such tale told in 
  Ireland, and curiously it tells of a wise woman that not 
  only was acquitted from the charges against her, but 
  also gained favor from the British Court and became 
  secretly worshipped as a saint, although the Church 
  never recognized her as such. Even more disturbing is 
  the fact that she was actually guilty as charged. 
  The Official History 
  In 1302, in Kilkenny, Ireland, a wealthy banker named 
  William Outlawe died of a strange wasting disease. He 
  was a widower and had married a noblewoman, Dame 
  Alice Kyteler, three years before death. She inherited 
  his fortune as legal tutor to his first-marriage son, also 
  named William Outlawe, and no one doubted her care 
  for her adolescent stepson. Only a few grew suspicious 
  of the fact that she had been refusing suitors all her life, 
  only to suddenly accept Outlawe’s courting, 
  particularly because he was quite a bit older than she. 
  But these few people were quickly silenced. 
  About two years later she married Adam le Blond, 
  a well-to-do French merchant. Their marriage appeared 
  to be a happy one, although whispered rumors told of 
  Adam beating his wife for no reason at all, and treating 
  her stepson very poorly while trying to add the 
  inheritance to his own possessions. He died, 
  presumably of a heart attack, in 1311. By that time 
  young William was considered adult for all purposes 
  and took the head of the family banking business. 
  Dame Alice was still a beautiful woman despite her 
  advancing age. At that time women usually got married 
  before the end of adolescence and, if their husbands 
  died before them, they normally retired to nunneries, 
  but that was not the fate for her. She soon met another 
  wealthy merchant, called Richard de Valle, who had 
  recently moved to Kilkenny, after his wife suffered a 
  fatal riding accident. Dame Alice’s new husband was 
  no better a man than the previous, and by 1317, he 
  allegedly had a seizure during a storm and ran away 
  from the family’s seaside home, jumping from the high 
  cliffs. Dame Alice’s stepson William came to her side 
  once again and arranged for Richard’s legacy to swiftly 
  pass into her hands. 
  Even then Dame Kyteler did not retire; she was 
  still an attractive woman, and even her apparent 
  barrenness did not keep men away from her, 
  particularly after she had accumulated such a fortune. 
  A 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: GOTHIC EARTH PEOPLE 
  190 
  Her fourth husband, Sir John Le Poer, was a retired 
  knight with three children from his previous marriage. 
  His wife had died from a miscarriage a few months 
  after he moved to Kilkenny, and he found Alice 
  charming, thinking her the perfect woman to stay by his 
  side and help raise his children. They were married in 
  1318, but Sir John’s happiness was short-lived. In 1320, 
  he started to suffer from bloody coughing fits and 
  headaches. In 1324, his children were alarmed to see 
  his hair coming out in handfuls, and urged him to look 
  for a physician in the court. No one could diagnose his 
  problem, so he and his children grew suspicious of foul 
  play. 
  Finally, they confronted Alice and invaded her 
  locked room in her private property by the seashore. 
  There they found various powders and unguents, along 
  with amulets and charms. Sir John sent those evidences 
  in locked chests to the Bishop of Ossory, Richard de 
  Landrede, who had trained in France and supposedly 
  knew everything about witchcraft. 
  The bishop was convinced of Dame Alice’s guilt 
  and charged her, along with William and ten servants 
  on her property, of heresy, performing black masses, 
  and killing her previous husbands through the use of 
  sorcery. When Landrede arrived in the county, though, 
  the situation changed: as he signed an order of 
  excommunication for Dame Alice, she had him arrested 
  and held for seventeen days for false accusations and 
  perjury. The bishop had the whole diocese placed under 
  interdict and censure, but Dame Alice’s brother-in-law, 
  Sir Arnold Le Poer, who was Lord Justice at that time, 
  appealed in her favor to the Supreme Court in Dublin, 
  charging the bishop with illegal ban. Landrede was 
  forced to lift the ban and decided to visit Sir Arnold’s 
  court. When he entered the court carrying the Holy 
  Sacrament, horses turned wild, people were afraid of 
  him, and Sir Arnold had him thrown out. The second 
  time the bishop tried to demand the arrest of Dame 
  Alice and her stepson, a terrible war of words was 
  recorded in the court chronicle, and he was thrown out 
  again. Alice had Landrede summoned back to Dublin to 
  answer for having excommunicated her without a true 
  conviction of witchcraft. 
  The bishop was a stubborn man, and he eventually 
  managed to have William arrested along with Alice’s 
  housemaid Petronilla and the others he had accused 
  before. Dame Alice Kyteler had escaped to London 
  long before the soldiers came to Kilkenny. After nine 
  weeks in jail and away from her influence, William was 
  offered acquittal if he accused Alice of witchcraft. He 
  did so and was released, with the penance of paying for 
  the re-roofing the Cathedral and then making a 
  pilgrimage to the shrine of St. Thomas at Canterbury. 
  All the others followed his example, receiving a 
  sentence of whipping at the marketplace. But Petronilla 
  the maid, after being scourged nine times, confessed 
  further crimes, taking the whole blame and even saying 
  she was planning to kill her own husband the same way 
  Alice had killed her previous husbands. Charged once 
  more, she was burned at stake in the same year. That 
  helped turning people’s attentions away from Alice. 
  Sentenced “in absentia”, her personal lands were 
  forfeited. But she had managed to transfer her fortune 
  to London and bought a manor house near the Thames. 
  She soon had the goodwill of most noblewomen, as she 
  would advise them against abusive husbands, and 
  spread gossip and rumors against such men. 
  Before long her supposed magical powers were 
  whispered about in the Court, and she was visited in 
  private by many women of all classes and ranks, 
  looking for advice, charms, filters, salves and potions. 
  She also managed to have an all-women entourage, 
  selecting women with fighting skills to protect the 
  weaker ones and young prostitutes as her spies and 
  orderlies. When she was pronounced dead of old age 
  somewhere around 1350, a pagan cult had already been 
  built around her figure, one that might be considered a 
  remarkable attempt at women’s liberation for the 14th 
  Century.  
  This cult still exists in the 1890s as the Daughters 
  of St. Alice, a female-only qabal, dedicated to 
  protecting women and teaching them about their inner 
  powers and skills. Sadly, the Daughters also seek 
  darker, more morbid goals that only the highest ranks of 
  the order are able to comprehend. 
  Forbidden Lore 
  Born sometime around the 1270s, Dame Alice Kyteler 
  was unwittingly adopted by her family, for she was 
  actually the child of a powerful Irish sea hag who 
  exchanged her with the newborn daughter of Dame 
  Anne Kyteler, the infant’s would-be mother. Alice was 
  made aware of her true nature around her mid-teens, 
  when a new housemaid was employed. This housemaid 
  was her own mother in disguise, who had noticed the 
  lack of other hags in the area and decided to teach Alice 
  how to defend herself and get ready for the Change. 
  Alice grew up with full understanding of her fate, 
  and eventually came to accept it as a fact of life. As a 
  woman of Irish strain, she was strong of will, and her 
  inner evil and hatred against human families festered in 
  a more prepared way. Her intelligent mind built up a 
  plan that would help conceal her nature and activities: 
  instead of marrying an young man who would 
  constantly plague her with the obligation of having 
  children she would never be able to bear, she would 
  marry a man already with children, preferably an elder 
  with wealth of his own. 
  With that in mind, she easily found her goal, the 
  banker William Outlawe. The need to kill his first wife  
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: GOTHIC EARTH PEOPLE 
  191 
  did not bother Alice in the least. Soon Alice made 
  William forget his slain wife completely, and charmed 
  his son quite easily, too. By that time, Alice’s mother 
  had already departed, certain of her daughter’s success.  
  But Alice did not count on the ruthlessness of men; 
  when she did not give William a new child, he began to 
  beat her. That was intolerable, and without the powers 
  of a true hag she had to rely on her potions and few 
  spells. But fortunately for her, that proved a relatively 
  easy task. As an additional demonstration of her 
  cunning, she let the rumor spread about the beatings 
  and mistreating, so that the general populace 
  sympathized with the widow when Outlawe died. 
  Yet Alice could not accept the pretense of retiring 
  to a nunnery, mainly because her Change would start 
  soon. As the young William was still too young for her 
  to have a sociably acceptable relationship with him, she 
  decided to take no chances and seduced another man, 
  Adam le Blond. He proved to be a scoundrel no better 
  than her first husband. She slowly poisoned him and 
  claimed all his possessions; exactly what he had 
  intended to do with hers. 
  Alice’s third marriage came as result of a personal 
  vengeance; she had met Richard de Valle and his wife 
  at the market and the woman had remarked upon the 
  need for Alice to retire as a widow, letting her stepson 
  run the family business and live his own life. Outraged, 
  she enchanted Lady de Valle’s horse and made it run 
  wild, eventually breaking the lady’s neck. Alice soon 
  seduced the widower and a sweet smile came to her 
  face as he asked for her hand. 
  By that time Alice’s stepson William had grown a 
  little weary of her imposing presence and her command 
  over everything. He and Alice’s young housemaid 
  Petronilla had a secret affair and started to plot against 
  her, but both were actually too frightened of Alice to 
  act. In the meantime, unbeknownst to either one, their 
  mistress was already going through the Change. She 
  suffered from a “winter rash” and moved to her 
  property near to the sea cliffs. William and Petronilla 
  tried to turn de Valle against her, by telling him of 
  Alice’s part in his prior wife’s death. Shocked, he went 
  to the seaside manor to confront Alice, just to be 
  maddened by her visage as a Changing sea hag. He ran 
  away and fell from the precipice. Trying to avoid being 
  found as the perpetrator of her downfall, William 
  arranged for de Valle’s fortune to go to Alice quickly, 
  ensuring his devotion to her. 
  When Alice met with Sir John, she saw him as the 
  ultimate challenge: a brave knight, married with a 
  lovely young woman and with three children, a symbol 
  of everything she had grown to despise and hate. She 
  induced the poor woman’s miscarriage with an herbal 
  poison and, at the same moment, changed to her true 
  form right in front of the suffering mother, who died of  
  shock and fright. She then used the dead wife’s blood in 
  a love philter that bound Sir John to her in a matter of a 
  few months. Later, she started his gradual poisoning, as 
  she wanted to savor his slow and painful death. 
  However, at that time it was getting harder to cover 
  her actions. Everyone found it strange for a man who 
  had just lost a beautiful young wife to get married to an 
  elder woman with a dubious reputation. William found 
  that his best opportunity, and convinced Sir John’s 
  children of Alice’s guilt. On the other hand, Alice still 
  held an iron grip on people’s hearts and minds, and was 
  able to not only avoid the arrest, but also to make 
  William and Petronilla pay for their betrayal. Alice was 
  responsible for her housemaid’s sudden madness and 
  confession, making sure the young woman would 
  simultaneously suffer the full consequences of Alice’s 
  wrath while helping to distract the attention of her 
  accusers while Alice escaped. 
  In the Court, she rapidly spun a web of spies and 
  agents, taking advantage of the lack of satisfaction from 
  women of all ranks and positions. Helped by such 
  women, she managed to build up an underground 
  empire right under the nose of the authorities. 
  Eventually these women began to worship Alice as a 
  saint. She then moved from her headquarters near the 
  harbor to another place, even deeper into the bridges 
  and back alleys along the Thames River, and let her 
  network become a qabal. 
  In the 1890s, the Daughters of St. Alice work with 
  the purpose of taking power from men and placing 
  women in the highest positions available, eventually 
  subduing and enslaving men to their own purposes. In a 
  society such as Victorian Great Britain this is quite a 
  daunting task, but the Daughters work with ability and 
  patience, always recruiting new members from all 
  social levels. Meanwhile, Alice still lives somewhere 
  deep in the sewers, planning to one day rise as the true 
  Queen of Great Britain. 
  Dame Alice Kyteler 
  Mature Sea Hag, Neutral Evil 
  Armor Class 
  6 
   
   
   
  Str  
  18/00 
  Movement 
  18, Sw 15 
   
  Dex  
  16 
  Hit Dice 
  4 
   
   
   
  Con  
  15 
  Hit Points 
  30  
   
   
  Int  
  17 
  THAC0 
  17  
   
   
  Wis  
  15 
  Morale 
  Elite (14) 
   
  Cha  
  13 (2) 
  No. of Attacks 
  2 
   
   
   
  XP  
  3,000 
  Damage/Attack 
  1d4+6/2d4+2 
   
  Special Attacks 
  Death gaze, spells, weakness 
  visage, suggestion, see below 
  Special Defenses 
  Change self, water breathing, fog 
  cloud, summon swarm, spells, 
  see below 
  Magic Resistance 
  50% 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: GOTHIC EARTH PEOPLE 
  192 
  Alice has kept her magical abilities and evil 
  cunning through the ages. She rarely shows herself to 
  the world, or even to her own followers, but whenever 
  she does so, she always disguises her appearance with 
  that of her former life. Once she has engaged a foe in 
  combat, however, her mask will fall to reveal a hideous 
  face with discolored eyes, mottled skin and mud-caked 
  hair. Her long fingers end in sharp talons, usually dirty 
  with remains of her victims, and her yellow teeth look 
  like those of a shark. 
  The “Saint” is not fond of close combat. As a rare 
  member of her breed, she was able to overcome her 
  repulsion for her own shape because her mother 
  explained all she needed to know. She has far more 
  understanding of her nature than most hags, and while 
  she still hates happiness in the lives of others, she has 
  been able to intermingle with society while keeping her 
  privacy. Alice is a genius and will use her vast 
  knowledge and extensive network of spies and allies to 
  her best advantage. She usually meets a party in a 
  pleasant form that mimics her human appearance before 
  the Change. Whenever an intruder is found within the 
  deeper sewers, he or she will have to face Alice’s 
  Daughters, mostly helpless prostitutes and beggars who 
  were warmly accepted into the ranks of the order and 
  will fight to the death to protect their mistress’ privacy. 
  If unable to summon minions to her aid, Alice will 
  open a fight by showing her true appearance to her 
  enemies. That is usually enough to weaken most heroes, 
  for all who see Alice’s true shape and fail a saving 
  throw vs. spell lose half their Strength scores for 1d6 
  turns. Alice reserves an especially terrifying attack for 
  those who withstand this first assault. By concentrating 
  her malice within her gaze, Alice may glance upon any 
  one creature within 30 feet. The victim must succeed at 
  a saving throw vs. poison. If the victim fails, he has a 
  25% chance of immediately dying from fright and a 
  75% chance of being paralyzed for three days. Alice 
  may use her deadly gaze up to three times per day. 
  When Alice has to fight, she does so with two 
  daggers, receiving a +3 bonus to attack rolls and +6 to 
  damage due to her preternatural strength. She can cast 
  change self, water breathing, fog cloud and summon 
  swarm three times per day as an 8th-level adept. She 
  can also cast suggestion twice a day at the same level. 
  During her life before the Change Alice made 
  extensive use of arcane lore and herbal concoctions. 
  She is quite proficient in Herbalism and Spellcraft 
  (gaining a +1 bonus to these proficiency checks), and 
  has the magical abilities of a 4th level adept. She is 
  quite capable and diligent, and loves to solve riddles or 
  playing a nice game of chess. She holds no respect or 
  mercy for men, whom she considers weakminded fools, 
  but will compliment a female adversary (and probably 
  try to enlist her) before attacking. 
  Spell list (3/2): 1st—audible glamer, charm person, 
  friends, hypnotism, phantasmal force, spook, 
  ventriloquism; 2nd—blindness, blur, forget, invisibility, 
  scare. 
  Alice’s greatest physical weakness is her 
  dependence on water. Her mother had taught her about 
  the symbolism of water and its importance to sea hags. 
  If somehow taken more than a few miles away from a 
  large body of water, such as the Thames or the Atlantic 
  Ocean, Alice will wither rapidly and die within days. 
  Alice is confident that she can live forever while next to 
  the waters, but this is not true; after more than 600 
  years, she is nearer to death than she admits, and might 
  already be entering the final stages of her life. That 
  realization could make her commit a fatal mistake. 
  Alice’s troops are made up of women, most of 
  whom are mere 1st-level tradesmen (or better, 
  tradeswomen) who act as spies or cannon fodder. Some 
  are soldiers, and a very few trusted followers, who are 
  allowed to come near to their “living saint,” become 
  adepts. Alice can also summon several sewer-crawling 
  creatures, as noted above. 
  If the DM wishes to introduce Alice as part of a 
  hag coven, it must be remembered that she is old and 
  used to rule and command, and that she is well versed 
  in hag lore, knowing that the main weakness of most 
  hags is their lack of planning and patience. Most 
  probably she would not accept the idea of sharing her 
  kingdom with others of their kind, particularly to those 
  who might one day destroy her. Therefore, if she ever 
  gets in contact with other hags, she will probably use a 
  spawning ritual to ensure that the newly created hags 
  will faithfully obey her. 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: GOTHIC EARTH PEOPLE 
  193 
  THE DAUGHTERS OF 
  SAINT ALICE 
  A Neutral Evil Qabal 
  It takes twenty years for a woman to 
  turn a son into a man, and twenty 
  minutes for another woman to make a 
  fool of him. 
  —Helen Rowland 
  The Daughters of Saint Alice started as a small 
  group of unsatisfied women, some noble, some poor, 
  who took Dame Alice’s advice seriously and decided 
  that men were not fit for authority, being inferior 
  beings. As such, they slowly began to spread word of 
  her teachings against men in all ranks of British society. 
  Soon they also started to talk of Dame Alice’s aptitude 
  as healer, advisor, brewer of philters and potions and 
  wise-woman. The tale of the woman that survived four 
  husbands and turned the tides of the Inquisition against 
  Bishop Landrede himself became a symbol of dignity 
  and endurance, and an example to be followed. 
  Instead of supporting women’s equality like 
  suffragists and feminists, though, they promote 
  women’s complete superiority over men; that men are 
  little more than pawns to be moved about and partners 
  for casual love affairs. Even those Daughters who 
  masquerade as faithful housewives help to spread the 
  ideals of the qabal through gossip against their own 
  husbands, brothers and sons. What once started as a 
  campaign to free women from male dominance, has 
  now been perverted to a concealed war against men. 
  In its history, the United Kingdom has had a few 
  queens who did not leave the state affairs in the hands 
  of the Prime Ministers, but would rather take the reins 
  themselves. There are rumors that link such women, 
  Queen Elizabeth, for example, to the Daughters of Saint 
  Alice. It has been said that Queen Elizabeth saw the 
  saint herself at least once, and received advice against 
  her foreign suitors. 
  In the Victorian Era, the Daughters of Saint Alice 
  still manage to keep hold of a fraction of English 
  society. Nowadays their work must be subtle and 
  unhurried, for although Great Britain once again has a 
  Queen on the throne, male power over the world seems 
  consolidated. The Daughters work to discredit men 
  whenever they can, and some suffragists and feminists 
  known for “exaggerated attitude against men” are 
  members of the qabal. Most members are common 
  women from different ranks of society, from laborers’ 
  wives to bankers’ daughters, but the true force of the 
  society hides in the sewers and back alleys. 
  Along the Thames there are gambling houses and 
  buildings of ill repute, which are totally run by 
  Daughters of Saint Alice. There are women selected 
  from an early age from among the poorest in England, 
  and they consider the qabal their true family and its 
  leader as their true savior. Most of them see “Saint 
  Alice” as a martyr, someone who unjustly suffered in 
  the hands of men and was saved, both from the 
  Inquisition and from male command, by divine 
  intervention. Almost all Daughters are proficient with at 
  least one small, easily concealed weapon, such as a 
  knife or dagger. Some Daughters are trained in the use 
  of firearms and larger blades, and have reached the 
  mid-levels as soldiers. Others develop their roguish 
  skills under the constant and caring supervision of their 
  elder sisters. 
  A few select Daughters, prized for their 
  intelligence, and after having proved their utmost 
  loyalty to the order, are taken to a secret place deep 
  within the sewers, hidden even from the other sisters. 
  There, they are introduced to the arcane arts and the 
  most skilled have the honor of meeting “the living 
  saint” herself. This only adds to their already feverish 
  loyalty. 
  Alice, however, is quite wary of the possibility of a 
  new hag rising from her army and taking her place, so 
  she is always inspecting these women very closely. She 
  will typically charm or hypnotize those women who are 
  closest to her, sometimes reinforcing the spells with 
  brews and potions. At the least sign of disloyalty, the 
  poor woman simply disappears and the “saint” 
  proclaims her treason and unworthiness. Those few 
  who are able to escape her clutches are savagely 
  persecuted throughout the country. Alice’s word is 
  accepted unquestionably by her followers, as are the 
  commands of her inner circle (who are simply relaying 
  Alice’s orders most of the time). 
  Members of the Daughters recognize one another 
  through a complex series of hand signs and words 
  carefully inserted in a casual phrase, usually a joke 
  about men’s faults. 
  Adventure Ideas 
  # During the course of a campaign, a female PC is 
  noticed by a member of the Daughters and invited 
  to join the order. As the Daughters’ most public 
  goals are geared toward the extinction of prejudice 
  against women, she might be tempted at first, only 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: GOTHIC EARTH PEOPLE 
  194 
  to discover the truth after a while. As most PCs are 
  remarkable people, it would not take long for the 
  hero to be introduced to “the living saint.” After 
  that, she must decide which side she will join with, 
  but she must know that no one leaves the 
  Daughters of Saint Alice and lives long enough to 
  tell their secrets. Eventually, the PC will have to 
  face the truth of the matter: that the Daughters do 
  not plan to make women be respected by men as 
  equals, but actually plan to enslave and subjugate 
  half the world. 
  # A male PC is mistaken for an abusive husband or 
  gigolo and a few of the more radical Daughters 
  decide to teach him a lesson. This might lead to 
  unwanted attention from the local authorities, so 
  Alice decides to get rid of the reckless women. The 
  survivors might turn to the heroes, offering a few 
  secrets of the qabal in return for protection. 
  # A trusted member of the Daughters falls in love 
  with a male hero and is forced by the order to pick 
  one of two option: break the PC’s will, or have him 
  killed lest she give away the order’s secrets. This 
  would put the party in serious danger, as one of the 
  Daughters’ higher members holds an important 
  position in the royal court. 
  # One Daughter gets a little too fanatical and decides 
  to kill her husband in the same fashion Alice did 
  centuries ago, trying to be granted divine approval. 
  Then she decides to “free her sisters from their 
  burdens,” murdering their husbands as well and 
  becoming a serial killer. Naturally, the “saint” 
  disapproves of these unsubtle tactics and a new 
  hunt is called. This time, however, the Daughters 
  might hire the PCs to investigate, actually using 
  them as “cannon fodder” and to distract suspicious 
  eyes as they close in on their errant sister. 
  # A mysterious woman with a strong will and 
  compelling words begins a new female crusade, 
  attracting the attention the Daughters but not 
  entering the ranks of the Order. Rather, she begins 
  to recruit the younger Daughters for her own 
  group. This woman actually is another, younger 
  hag in disguise, who has uncovered the truth about 
  Alice and decided to take her place. This usurped 
  might hire the PCs to aid her against those “evil 
  women who would do worse to men than men have 
  ever done to them before.” This would place the 
  heroes right in the middle of a power struggle 
  between two evil creatures and their followers, 
  some of who are simply innocent, misguided 
  women. 
  ! 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: GOTHIC EARTH PEOPLE 
  195 
  THE KATIPUNAN 
  A Revolutionary Qabal for Gothic Manila 
  by Dion Fernandez 
  avignon@thedoghousemail.com 
   
  Introduction 
  The Katipunan, or the Blood-Brotherhood, is a 
  secretive Philippine secessionist group composed of 
  members from all walks of life who wish to topple the 
  near-tyrannical regime of the Spanish Empire. As 
  nearly every Filipino knows, the group’s main goal is to 
  establish an independent Philippine republic through 
  whatever means possible. This is a cover story: the 
  hidden purpose of the Katipunan is to keep the Red 
  Death at bay. 
  The qabal is subdivided into two groups: the 
  Katipunang Lantaran (the Open Blood-Brotherhood), 
  that which deals with the politics and the revolutionary 
  tactics; and the Katipunang Lihim (the Hidden Blood-
  Brotherhood), which focuses on fighting the hidden 
  evil. It is the Katipunan Lihim’s job to collect and 
  archive each and every form of mysticism and magic in 
  Asia and to fight unnatural evil throughout Manila, 
  specifically the statue called the Nuestra Seniora. This 
  latter level of the Katipunan holds a deep-seated belief 
  that in 1521, one of Ferdinand Magellan’s crewmen 
  named Antonio Pijafetta was actually a minion of an 
  unexplainable evil. Through the use of the Nuestra 
  Seniora now displayed in the Manila Cathedral, 
  Pijafetta brought this evil into the Philippines. 
  The Katipunan as a whole have several 
  international connections. According to its current 
  leaders the Blood-Brotherhood communicates regularly 
  with agents in Cuba, Puerto Rico, Peru and other 
  Spanish colonies, including Spain itself. It also 
  regularly communicates with other good qabals around 
  the world. The main headquarters of the Brotherhood 
  are located outside Manila, at the foot of a sacred 
  mountain called Banahaw. 
  Symbol 
  The Katipunan’s symbol is an upright equilateral 
  triangle with a red outline of the Philippine symbol for 
  “K”, sort of a stylized Roman letter “I”, inside the 
  polygon. Members are required to have this symbol 
  tattooed on their left wrist. 
  Members 
  The founders of the Katipunan are revolutionaries who 
  want to secede from the Spanish Empire, and who have 
  an ancestral background of adepts and mystics (though 
  this latter information is unknown to the other 
  members). Anyone with a strong resistance to Western 
  imperialism could be invited to join or to become an 
  international agent of the Katipunan. 
  Membership in the Katipunang Lihim, however, is 
  rather different. Any Katipunan member or agent who 
  has witnessed or experienced an encounter with 
  supernatural phenomena could be considered as one of 
  the subgroup’s members, moreso if that person is 
  “pinagpala,” or with psychic, magical or mystical 
  abilities. That member is then sworn to secrecy, even to 
  the members of the Katipunang Lantaran, and any 
  lawbreakers would be dealt with accordingly by the 
  Katipunang Lihim’s Kataasan (“High Council”). By 
  accepting these gifted members into the fold, the 
  Katipunang Lihim slowly gains advantage over evil 
  through knowledge and innovation. 
  A Brief Who’s Who 
  Andres Bonifacio is a founding member of the Blood-
  Brotherhood. He also works as the Spanish 
  government’s liaison to the far-flung Philippine 
  provincias of Ilocos, Cebu, Bangsamoro and Igorrotes. 
  His position in the Katipunan is unknown to the 
  Spanish officials. He is skilled in using a variety of 
  weapons including swords, bayonets, pistols and 
  homemade bombs. A battle-scarred revolutionary, he is 
  a hotheaded individual torn between his loyalties to 
  Spain and the Katipunan. He has no idea of the 
  Katipunang Lihim’s existence. 
  Emilio Aguinaldo, a founding member, is a half-
  Spanish aristocrat with several connections in Spanish 
  circles, more specifically the officials of Intramuros. He 
  has a compassionate attitude towards the aims of the 
  Katipunan, and his position gives the group a steep 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: GOTHIC EARTH PEOPLE 
  196 
  advantage. International agents who need to seek help 
  from the Katipunan are usually referred to him. As with 
  Bonifacio, he does not know that the Katipunang Lihim 
  exists. 
  Apolinario Mabini is a teacher at the Universidad 
  de Santo Tomas. Sick with a malignant disease akin to 
  polio, he is confined to a wheelchair. He knows of the 
  Katipunang Lihim, and if any of his students or contacts 
  exhibit any unusual characteristics like magic or mystic 
  abilities, he would carefully consider them for 
  membership in the qabal. 
  Melchora Aquino is an old mystic, and whom the 
  Katipunang Lihim approaches for information on 
  sorcery, mysticism and ancient culture. She was once a 
  victim of the Nuestra Seniora’s influence, and was 
  lucky enough to escape with her life and sanity intact. 
  Juan Luna is an internationally renowned painter. 
  His travels to Spain, Portugal and the United States 
  gained him fame and recognition in social circles. He is 
  also an investigator of the paranormal, and thus a vital 
  member of the Katipunang Lihim. 
  Florencia Silang is an Ilocana, a descendant of the 
  great Philippine revolutionary Gabriela Silang. Only 
  fourteen years old, she is considered “pinagpala” by the 
  Katipunang Lihim due to her mystic abilities. She 
  travels frequently with her father Manuel Silang to 
  Hong Kong and Singapore, and is considered as an 
  international agent. 
  Graciano Lopez-Jaena is editor-in-chief and 
  publisher of the reformist paper La Solidaridad, which 
  is published weekly, has a circulation of 5,000 copies, 
  and has readers from Chicago, Rome, Hong Kong, 
  London and Cairo. As a journalist, he is the most 
  widely known member of the Katipunan and 
  communicates frequently with other international 
  newspapers. He has never heard of the Katipunang 
  Lihim. 
  Cristina Olenka Cenzon is a Filipino-American 
  agent of the Katipunan, and also a journalist. She has 
  closely monitored the events of the Spanish-American 
  war and what this means for European dominance in 
  the Far East. Her uncanny ability to decipher codes and 
  understand languages, though not mystical or magical 
  in nature, has earned her a seat in the Katipunang 
  Lihim. 
  Jose Rizal is a physician, and the most intelligent 
  member of the Katipunan. He supervises the work of 
  the Blood-Brotherhood’s international agents, being 
  well-traveled himself. He is an expert in eight 
  languages (English, French, Latin, German, Japanese, 
  Italian, Filipino and Chinese), and has gained 
  recognition from his reformist novels Noli Me Tangere 
  (Touch Me Not) and El Filibusterismo (The Ways of the 
  Heretic). Unfortunately, he is captured and executed in 
  1896 by Spanish authorities on charges of secessionism 
  and heresy. 
  Gregorio del Pilar is a young revolutionary and 
  former member of the failed Qabal Las Espiritistas. He 
  has shown signs of being an adept, a main reason why 
  he was taken into the Katipunang Lihim. The 
  Katipunang Lantaran has seen in him the potential to 
  become a great general in the upcoming revolution 
  versus Spain. 
  History 
  The beginnings of the Katipunan started even before its 
  foundation. A decade or so earlier a small group of 
  Manila folk had formed a secret group called Las 
  Espiritistas. Armed with knowledge of a dark force 
  emanating from the holy confines of Manila Cathedral, 
  the Qabal nearly succeeded in destroying Pijafetta’s 
  Nuestra Seniora, until a turncoat reported them to the 
  Dominican Order. All of Las Espiritista’s members, 
  save for the traitor and a child named Gregorio del 
  Pilar, were executed in the catacombs under 
  Intramuros. 
  Sometime in the late 1880s, during the time of the 
  secessionist emergence, a group called La Liga Filipina 
  was formed in Manila. Its primary aim was to seek 
  dialogue with the Spanish government to uplift the 
  already crumbling Philippine condition. Again, due to 
  turncoats, the group was controlled, and its leaders 
  executed. 
  Also during this critical time, the reformist 
  newspaper La Solidaridad was first published, publicly 
  accusing certain Spanish officials and Dominican friars 
  of corruption. Its founder, Graciano Lopez-Jaena, 
  constantly risked life and limb to ensure the paper 
  continued to come out on a regular basis. 
  A strong force was needed to fight the corrupt 
  leaders. Underground Filipino leaders saw no need to 
  delay the formation of a group to defeat absolute power. 
  On July 7, 1892, a pact is created in the small district of 
  Biak-na-Bato (“Broken Stone”), thus resulting in the 
  formation of the Katipunan. The founders of the Blood-
  Brotherhood include Graciano Lopez-Jaena, Emilio 
  Aguinaldo, Andres Bonifacio, Melchora Aquino and 
  Jose Rizal. At first, only the Katipunang Lantaran 
  exists. 
  Slowly in the following years, the fame of the 
  elusive Katipunan spreads throughout Luzon island, 
  inspiring other Filipinos to either join the group or 
  create their own secessionist movements. During this 
  time, the Katipunan’s leaders start research on 
  mysticism, ancient culture and magic. Eventually, they 
  stumble upon the documents of Las Espiritistas and 
  recruit Gregorio del Pilar as a member. In March of 
  1894, the Katipunang Lihim is established under 
  extreme secrecy, unknown even to some Katipunan 
  founders. 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: GOTHIC EARTH PEOPLE 
  197 
  A fatal blow strikes the Katipunan in December of 
  1896 when, after a European tour, the physician Jose 
  Rizal is arrested and jailed in Intramuros. Spanish 
  authorities claim that Rizal’s reformist novels are anti-
  government and suggest secessionism, but the 
  Katipunan know otherwise: Rizal, in his tours across 
  Europe, had discovered the true dark and evil nature of 
  the Nuestra Seniora in Manila Cathedral, and had been 
  plotting a way to destroy it. Finally, on the morning of 
  December 30, 1896, Rizal is shot in a public execution 
  on the hill called Bagumbayan. 
  The Katipunan now face their greatest challenge 
  against Spain’s last stronghold of imperialism. 
  However, the Katipunang Lantaran agree that toppling 
  Spain is just the beginning. At their disposal now lie the 
  machinations and the techniques to combat the Red 
  Death in the Philippines, under a cover of political 
  revolution. 
  ! 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: GOTHIC EARTH PEOPLE 
  198 
  THE LOÇOLICO 
  Ancient Foes of the Vistani 
  by Andrew Wyatt 
  wyatt@kargatane.com 
   
  INTRODUCTION 
  ei Gott.” 
  Meinhard fumbled awkwardly for his 
  handkerchief, choking back his rising gorge. 
  The scent that washed over him was as 
  wretched as he had ever experienced. It was the 
  unbearable stench of a sickroom muddled with the wet, 
  runny pall of earthworms after a summer rain. And 
  underneath that there was a dry, musty scent, not unlike 
  that of moldering bones. 
  The scene before him was even more horrible than 
  the smell, if such a thing was possible. The tiny 
  Hungarian village of Soltvecse was utterly devoid of 
  life. All around him, in the muddy, rutted road that 
  served as the main thoroughfare through the village, lay 
  the corpses of men, women, children, and animals. 
  Their bodies were wasted, the jaundiced skin stretched 
  tight over protruding bones and traced with dark green 
  veins. Watery human waste was pooled everywhere. 
  Every dead eye that looked back at him was bloated 
  tinted the color of pea soup. The village was utterly 
  silent, save for the steady buzzing of flies. 
  “Doktor Gleisbach?” 
  Meinhard turned to the elderly Magyar man beside 
  him, blinking. He was lost in the horror of it all, 
  uncomprehending. Slowly, he shook himself back to 
  reality. 
  “You see now, why I had to bring you here?” the 
  Magyar urged. “Your colleague at the University of 
  Budapest felt very strongly that you should see for 
  yourself.” 
  Meinhard nodded slowly, licking thick spittle from 
  edges of his lips. He fingered the tiny silver pin on his 
  lapel absently, taking comfort in its familiar candle 
  shape. “Yes. I. I see. There are no survivors, then?” 
  “Only one.” 
  Meinhard looked up at the Magyar, surprised at the 
  response. 
  “He is at a farm a few miles from here. Come.” 
  ! ! ! 
  The boy looked for the entire world as if he should 
  already be among his dead kinsmen. The wheezy 
  heaving of his tiny, emaciated frame was the only sign 
  of life yet in him. The boy’s eyes were glazed and 
  distant, as if he was gazing at a serene vista visible only 
  to him. 
  Meinhard sat down on the straw palette that served 
  as the boy’s bed and opened his medical bag. He 
  withdrew a stethoscope and placed it against the boy’s 
  heaving chest, which was slick with sweat. After 
  listening wordlessly to the boy’s erratic heartbeat for a 
  minute, Meinhard turned to the Magyar. 
  “What is his name?” 
  The Magyar shrugged, giving him an apologetic 
  look. “If he has family outside Soltvecse, they surely do 
  not yet know what has happened there.” 
  Meinhard nodded vaguely. He turned his attention 
  to the boy again, who could not have been older than 
  eleven. He must have been stout and strong once, 
  Meinhard thought, and probably handsome. Now he 
  seemed to be waiting to die. 
  “What is your name, child?” Meinhard spoke 
  gently, but with paternal firmness. The boy did not 
  seem to hear him at first, and Meinhard was about to 
  repeat himself when the boy whispered through cracked 
  lips. 
  “Iskren.” 
  Meinhard tried to smile. “Hello, Iskren. I am 
  Doktor Gleisbach from Vienna. Can you tell me what 
  happened to your village yesterday?” 
  Iskren squinted, as if trying to find the words. 
  “There was a man.” 
  “A man?” 
  “He walked into the village just after noontime. 
  The wasting seemed to follow him. My father, he 
  withered away in front of my eyes. It took less than two 
  hours. His bowels seemed to empty his flesh onto the 
  ground.” Iskren’s lips shuddered in anguish and oily 
  tears welled up in his eyes. 
  “Ikren, the man who came with the wasting,” 
  Reinhard was anxious now. “What did he look like?” 
  B 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: GOTHIC EARTH PEOPLE 
  199 
  Iskren breathed raggedly. “He was dressed all in 
  black, like a priest. He was dark, like a gypsy. I 
  remember looking at him, at his face. For a moment.” 
  “Yes?” 
  “Worms. I thought I saw worms where his face 
  should be.” 
  Reinhard looked questioningly at the Magyar, who 
  only shrugged. 
  “Iskren, did the man say who had sent him? Did he 
  say what he was looking for?” 
  Iskren seemed about to say something, when a 
  creaky voice interrupted from behind Meinhard. 
  “He was looking for me, Doktor.” 
  Reinhard turned around sharply to see an ancient 
  gypsy woman standing in the doorway of the tiny farm 
  shed. She was dressed in a simple, loose woolen blouse 
  and skirt, without the gay colors that he would have 
  expected. Her long, dirty-white hair peeked out in 
  frizzy ringlets from the kerchief on her head. Her face 
  was creased and her flesh sagging, but her eyes 
  sparkled darkly with vitality. 
  Meinhard rose slowly, unsure of how to respond to 
  the old woman. 
  “This child knows nothing, Doktor. Let him die in 
  peace. If you seek the man who has slain Soltvecse, you 
  will come with me.” 
  Meinhard took a step forward. “Who–?” 
  The gypsy woman held up a frail, bony hand 
  dismissively. “You may call me Madame Verica for 
  now. True names have power, and you do not have my 
  trust yet for that.” The gypsy woman paused, 
  considering Meinhard with a cocked head and half-
  smile. “Perhaps today we can begin to build such trust.” 
  The Loçolico 
  For centuries, the Rom have spoken in fearful tones of 
  the Loçolico, mortals who were long ago corrupted by 
  the Devil. According to legend, the king of the Loçolico 
  forced Ana, queen of the faeries, to wed him. From this 
  blasphemous union sprung the most powerful of the 
  Loçolico, names the Rom dare not speak aloud: Bitoso, 
  Lilyi, Lolmischo, Melalo, Minceskro, Poreskoro, 
  Shilalyi and Tçaridyi. These terrifying beings walk the 
  earth to this day, spreading disease and suffering 
  wherever they go. Nearly every sickness that can befall 
  a man can be attributed to one of their foul number. 
  The Vistani know these names as well. They also 
  know that the Loçolico are no mere folktale or 
  superstitious rationale for illness. For as long as they 
  can remember, the Vistani have been watching over 
  their shoulders for the Loçolico. These strange beings 
  perpetually hunt their race, relentlessly dogging their 
  wanderings across the world. All Vistani fear the day 
  they see a lone traveler in black following close behind 
  them, for that will surely be the day they suffer a fate 
  worse than death. 
  A mystery even to Gothic Earth’s most mysterious 
  group, the Loçolico are presented here as a plot device 
  flexible enough to be used in almost any Masque of the 
  Red Death campaign. The Vistani have never spoken of 
  the Loçolico to outsiders, for to do so would not only 
  reveal one of their greatest secrets, but also one of their 
  greatest weaknesses. But as the tide of the Red Death 
  swells in 1890s, a few Vistani have come to believe that 
  perhaps the time for absolute secrecy and xenophobia is 
  past. The Loçolico seem to be growing stronger with 
  each passing century. Some among the Vistani believe 
  that the Loçolico are powerful agents of the Red Death, 
  who may in time become a threat to all of Gothic Earth 
  (if they are not already). 
  It should be emphasized that though the Vistani 
  know of the Loçolico, they do not understand their 
  motivations. Attempts to divine any information about 
  the Loçolico always fail, a fact that in and of itself 
  frightens the Vistani. Though the Vistani have had 
  enough encounters with the Loçolico to know that the 
  foul creatures want to do their race harm, they have not 
  yet discerned to what end. The riddle of the Loçolico 
  vexes the Vistani perpetually, which in turn makes their 
  fear of their mysterious hunters cut all the deeper. 
  Loçolico (General) 
  Unknown Alignment 
  Armor Class 
  0 
   
   
  Str  
  12 
  Movement 
  12  
   
  Dex  
  12 
  Level/Hit Dice 
  10  
   
  Con  
  13 
  Hit Points 
  80  
   
  Int  
  20 
  THAC0 
  11  
   
  Wis  
  16 
  Morale 
  18  
   
  Cha  
  9 
  No. Attacks 
  1 
   
   
  XP  
  N/A 
  Damage/Attack 
  Special 
  Special Attacks 
  Disease 
  Special Defenses 
  Immune to magic, +1 or 
  better to hit, immune to 
  disease and poison 
  Magic Resistance 
  100% 
  All of the Loçolico have a similar appearance, 
  being dressed in a thick black robe and cowl, buttoned 
  tightly across a slim human frame. Only the Loçolico’s 
  face and hands are visible, which usually have the skin 
  tone and features typical of the Rom. The face of a 
  Loçolico is otherwise maddeningly unassuming and 
  difficult for witnesses to describe in any kind of detail. 
  A few witnesses—usually children, mystics, or those 
  already infected with serious diseases—have reported 
  glimpsing squirming vermin beneath a Loçolico’s cowl 
  instead of a human face. 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: GOTHIC EARTH PEOPLE 
  200 
  Roleplaying 
  The Loçolico never speak or show any kind of emotion. 
  They are relentless and deliberate in their actions, and 
  extremely intelligent. While outrunning a Loçolico 
  might potentially be as easy as outrunning any human, 
  outwitting one is nearly impossible. The true alignment 
  of the Loçolico is unknown, but their habit of infecting 
  any innocents that they come across with dreadful 
  diseases suggests that they are either thoroughly evil or 
  chillingly amoral. 
  The appearance of a Loçolico should be a sinister 
  and terrifying event. They seem to have the ability to 
  track Vistani over any terrain, or find them amid the 
  throngs of a bustling city. Despite the fact that they 
  travel on foot, they always seem to be right behind their 
  quarry. The DM should feel free to attribute any kind of 
  supernatural abilities she feels are appropriate for how 
  she intends to utilize the Loçolico in her campaign. 
  Particularly suitable powers are those that allow the 
  Loçolico to bend the laws of time and space in order to 
  find the Vistani. 
  Combat 
  The Loçolico are not warriors. They never defend 
  themselves with weapons, and rarely fight for any 
  longer than it takes to infect all of their opponents (see 
  below). Nonetheless, they spread death with such a 
  chilling casualness that it can give even a stalwart 
  soldier pause. 
  Loçolico attack by making a touch attack against 
  their opponents. This attack ignores worn or natural 
  armor, though Dexterity and magical bonuses to AC 
  still apply. On a successful hit, the victim must make a 
  saving throw vs. death magic with a –6 penalty or 
  contract a terrible disease. Each of the Loçolico spreads 
  a different disease, and the effects of those diseases 
  vary (see below). Regardless, the effects are always 
  permanent. Victims who are reduced to zero hit points 
  or zero in any ability score die. The incubation period 
  for all of these diseases is astonishingly brief, however, 
  beginning to take effect in only 1d6 turns. The disease 
  of a Loçolico cannot be cured by cure disease, but can 
  be removed by heal. This simply stops the disease’s 
  progress; another heal spell is required to remove any 
  adverse effects resulting from the disease. 
  Once a single victim is infected, a Loçolico’s 
  disease can spread on its own through a population. 
  Anyone who comes into physical contact with the 
  original victim must make a saving throw vs. death 
  magic with a –2 penalty or contract the same disease. 
  Curiously, this effect seems to end once a victim dies, 
  so that coming into contact with a diseased corpse does 
  not carry a risk of infection. 
  Loçolico can only be harmed by weapons of at 
  least +1 enchantment. They are immune to all poisons 
  and disease, including magical ones. Furthermore, the 
  Loçolico are utterly immune to all spells and spell-like 
  effects. Magic simply has no effect on them. 
  Bitoso is male, and his face sometimes appears as a 
  mass of squirming maggots. His disease causes 
  symptoms that resemble those of a severe intestinal 
  infection. Infected victims lose one hp permanently 
  every turn. 
  Lilyi is female, and her face sometimes appears as 
  a mass of rotting fish. Her disease causes symptoms 
  similar to those of a catarrhal infection. Infected victims 
  lose one point of Constitution every turn. The victim 
  also become so weak that any exertion whatsoever 
  beyond sitting or resting causes him to make a system 
  shock roll or lose 2d4 hit points permanently. 
  Lolmischo is male, and his face sometimes appears 
  as a mass of squealing, bleeding rats. His disease causes 
  symptoms that resemble those of a skin infection, with 
  weeping sores and severe eczema. Infected victims lose 
  one point of Charisma every turn. 
  Melalo is male, and his face sometimes appears as 
  a mass of blind, slimy bird hatchlings. His disease 
  causes crippling madness. Infected victims must make a 
  madness check every hour. If the check fails, roll on 
  Table 9 on page 150 of Domains of Dread with a –4 
  penalty to determine the result. The effects are 
  cumulative, and once a victim accumulates a number of 
  madness results equal to half her Intelligence, she dies. 
  Minceskro is male, and his face sometimes 
  appears as a mass of black scarab beetles. His disease 
  causes symptoms similar to a variety of feared diseases, 
  including scarlet fever, measles, and smallpox. Infected 
  victims lose two points of Constitution every turn. 
  Poreskoro is male, and his face sometimes appears 
  as a mass of writhing serpents. His disease causes 
  agonizing joint pain and hugely swollen lymph nodes. 
  The victim loses one point of Dexterity every turn and 
  must make a save vs. death magic to attempt any 
  activity greater than sitting or resting, due to the severe 
  pain. 
  Shilalyi is female, and her face sometimes appears 
  as a mass of hideous centipedes. Her disease causes 
  symptoms resembling a debilitating pneumonia. The 
  victim does not lose hit points or points from an ability 
  score, but becomes completely incapacitated. Any 
  exertion whatsoever beyond sitting or resting causes 
  him to make a system shock roll or die immediately 
  Tçaridyi is female, and her face sometimes 
  appears as a mass of wet, squirming crayfish. Her 
  disease causes an intense fever that threatens to boil the 
  victim’s brain. Infected victims lose one point of 
  Intelligence and one point of Wisdom every turn. 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: GOTHIC EARTH PEOPLE 
  201 
  Using the Loçolico in Your 
  Campaign 
  Like the Vistani themselves, the Loçolico are a 
  mysterious group, their motivations inscrutable. This 
  works to the advantage of the DM, however, as he is 
  free to interpret the Loçolico in a manner that best fits 
  his campaign. Described below are several options for 
  introducing the Loçolico into Gothic Earth. 
  A note of caution is in order, however. As the 
  above abilities indicate, the Loçolico are powerful 
  opponents, who can easily doom an entire party with a 
  touch. The Loçolico are not monsters to be tackled 
  head-on. Rather, they are enigmas, beings whose 
  appearance can be an excellent springboard to 
  adventure. Heroes should not be expected to face down 
  these creatures, even if they want to. The Loçolico are 
  meant to serve as potent plot devices, particularly if the 
  DM wishes to use the Vistani of Gothic Earth in his 
  campaign. 
  Agents of the Red Death: 
  Destroy the Vistani 
  Perhaps the most obvious answer to the riddle of the 
  Loçolico is that they are bent on destroying the Vistani 
  of Gothic Earth. Though the Vistani do not always 
  work against the Red Death, their meddling nonetheless 
  annoys the Red Death. It perceives the gypsies to be a 
  serious threat to its ascendancy on Gothic Earth. The 
  Loçolico are humans who were long ago corrupted by 
  the Red Death and transformed into powerful 
  supernatural creatures, specifically molded to slaughter 
  the Vistani to the last. Now the Loçolico traverse the 
  globe, ferreting out the Vistani wherever the hide. 
  Agents of the Red Death: 
  Corrupt the Vistani 
  While the Loçolico are in fact agents of the Red Death, 
  their true motivations are much more insidious than 
  even the Vistani suspect. They seek to corrupt the 
  Vistani to the Red Death’s side, making them its agents 
  and allies. Too troublesome to ignore, yet too valuable 
  to destroy, the Vistani have been judged worthy of the 
  Red Death’s dark attention. The Red Death wants the 
  gypsies on its side, at any cost. The Loçolico are 
  charged with subtly manipulating the Vistani, luring 
  them over to the side of evil one at a time. 
  Agents of the Red Death: 
  One Goal Among Many 
  The Loçolico are indeed trying to destroy or corrupt the 
  Vistani as described above, but this is not their only 
  goal. They act as a secret police for the Red Death on 
  Gothic Earth, perhaps answering to the Seven 
  themselves. Though the Vistani believe that the 
  Loçolico are their own private foes, the Loçolico have 
  left their mark on numerous cultures throughout history. 
  They have hundreds of different names in hundreds of 
  different tongues, but they always serve the Red 
  Death’s unfathomable interests. Their primary purpose, 
  however, is to work against the qabals that oppose the 
  Red Death. 
  Foes of the Red Death: 
  Destroy the Vistani 
  The Loçolico are in fact enemies of the Red Death. 
  Their goal is still to destroy the Vistani, but for a very 
  different reason: the Loçolico believe that the Vistani 
  will be instrumental in cementing the Red Death’s 
  power over Gothic Earth. If the Red Death is to be 
  stopped, the Vistani must be stopped. The Loçolico 
  might be avenging celestials, the last remnant of 
  heavenly power on Gothic Earth. Or perhaps they are 
  ancient mortal adepts who have sacrificed their own 
  mortality and souls for the purpose of destroying the 
  Red Death. 
  Ancient Curse: 
  Destroy the Vistani 
  The Loçolico have little, if anything, to do with the Red 
  Death directly. Rather, they are the agents of an ancient 
  curse that the Vistani labor under. The Loçolico seek to 
  destroy the Vistani, but they are merely supernatural 
  heralds of vengeance and justice. The Vistani 
  committed some heinous crime in the ancient past, one 
  that invoked a dreadful curse. The Loçolico now hunt 
  the gypsies relentlessly, which is why the Vistani are 
  nomadic. It is questionable how much longer the 
  Vistani can continue to run from the Loçolico, who for 
  millennia have shown now signs or tiring or ceasing 
  their pursuit. 
  Corrupted Vistani: 
  Corrupt the Vistani 
  The Loçolico were once Vistani themselves. Now they 
  are . . . something else. Perhaps the Loçolico are 
  darklings of such evil that they have become twisted 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: GOTHIC EARTH PEOPLE 
  202 
  beyond all recognition. Though they do not serve the 
  Red Death directly, the Loçolico are nonetheless 
  obsessed with corrupting other Vistani. Corruption 
  seems to grant Vistani great power, and the Loçolico 
  take malicious glee in tempting their kin with that 
  power. 
  Corrupted Vistani: 
  Destroy One Another 
  The Loçolico are corrupted Vistani, as in the scenario 
  above. They care little for their mundane kinsmen, but 
  they despise one another. They may have personal 
  reasons for this hatred, or perhaps they gain power 
  when they destroy one of their own. Perhaps the Red 
  Death has even promised the last surviving Loçolico a 
  place of power at its side. The Vistani, for their part, are 
  caught in the middle of the conflict, as each Loçolico is 
  convinced that the Vistani are protecting or harboring 
  others of its kind. 
  Corrupted Adepts: 
  Capture the Vistani 
  The Loçolico are ancient adepts who have managed to 
  survive for centuries with the aid of magic. Perhaps 
  they developed a unique variation of the lich formula, 
  or struck an unspeakable pact with the Red Death itself. 
  Regardless, these adepts have long been obsessed with 
  the secrets of the Vistani. They believe that the gypsies 
  hold the key to even greater magical power, or even the 
  secrets to outwitting the Red Death. To this end, they 
  seek to capture Vistani alive, for the purpose of 
  interrogation, magical experimentation, or even 
  sacrifice. 
  ! 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: GOTHIC EARTH PEOPLE 
  203 
  CARACAS 
  A Slice of the Gothic Caribbean 
  by Daniel Bandera 
  daniel.j.bandera@us.pwcglobal.com 
   
  Caracas 
  ocated near the coast of the Caribbean Sea, 
  the white stone buildings of the city of 
  Caracas stand in contrast to the surrounding 
  tropical jungles of Venezuela. A large city 
  of Spanish design, it is the center of the Venezuela’s 
  coffee and beef trade, but like the rest of the country 
  has been racked by revolution throughout much of the 
  past century. 
  History 
  The land around Caracas was first explored by 
  Christopher Columbus in the early 16th Century, who 
  claimed it for the Kingdom of Spain. The Spanish did 
  not place much interest in the area, as it lacked the 
  precious metals that were discovered in abundance to 
  the north in Mexico. Though a few settlements were 
  established, they were mainly bases for slavers, who 
  would raid the local tribes to find slave laborers for the 
  gold and silver mines of Mexico. This led to bitter 
  hatred of the Spanish by the local tribes, who 
  maintained an ongoing war with the conquistadors for 
  years. In 1567, after more than a decade of fierce 
  fighting, Diego de Losada cleared the area of hostile 
  tribes and created the settlement of Santiago de León de 
  Caracas. 
  Situated in a fertile land, the settlement was able to 
  become self-sufficient from the start, while the Spanish 
  crown concentrated on developing its other colonies. 
  With agriculture as the settlement’s main product, it 
  began exporting a variety of crops to Spain, such as 
  tobacco. The new settlement fell under the rulership of 
  the Viceroy at Bogotá, but due to the distance between 
  the two cities, Caracas maintained a degree of 
  independence. 
  In the 1600s, the use of the cocoa bean to 
  manufacture chocolate and as a narcotic became very 
  popular, and the fertile lands around Caracas were 
  prime growing areas for these crops. Trade for the little 
  settlement exploded, increasing the need for slaves to 
  work the cocoa fields. To pay for the slaves, plantation 
  owners began smuggling their excess produce to Dutch 
  and English ports, where they could receive a higher 
  price for their goods. 
  Once the Spanish crown learned of the large profits 
  it was losing to this illegal trade it reacted by granting 
  the exclusive trading rights of cocoa to the Caracas 
  Company. The Caracas Company succeeded in 
  reducing the illegal trade, but the low prices it offered 
  the cocoa growers led to resentment. In 1749, a 
  rebellion of poor cocoa growers in the interior of the 
  country began. The rich land owners of Caracas 
  discreetly offered aid to the rebels, but when a large 
  contingency of royal forces arrived to quell the rebels, 
  the aristocracy withdrew their support and the rebellion 
  was crushed. 
  The first successful revolution would have to wait 
  another fifty years. This revolution was led by 
  Francisco de Miranda, who came from a wealthy 
  Caracas family. Miranda had a vision of South America 
  similar to that of the United States, which had won its 
  independence only a few years before. 
  After a failed attempt at popular insurrection, in the 
  first decade of the 19th Century, Miranda was exiled to 
  England. There he remained until he met Simón Bolívar 
  Palacios. Together they returned to Venezuela in 1810 
  to lead a revolution. The timing could not have been 
  better. Spain had been conquered by Napoleon in 1808, 
  but due to the strength of the British navy, he could not 
  exert control over Spain’s many colonies. 
  With Miranda leading the way, the Caracas 
  cabildo, the city council, declared Venezuela 
  independent from Spain and set up a congress and 
  constitution for the new country. The First Republic of 
  Venezuela did not last long. Many of the country’s 
  major cities did not recognize the rulership of the 
  Caracas congress, and instead declared their support for 
  the French dictator. By 1812 the rebellion had been 
  crushed and Miranda hauled away to a Spanish prison. 
  Meanwhile Bolívar escaped to New Granada 
  (Colombia) and became the new head of the Latin 
  American independence movement. 
  In 1813, uttering the battle cry he would make 
  famous, “war to the death,” Bolívar’s forces captured 
  L 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: GOTHIC EARTH PLACES 
  204 
  Caracas and declared the Second Republic of 
  Venezuela, with Bolívar as dictator. The Second 
  Republic was as unsuccessful as the first. Its major 
  failing was the lack of support from the commoners, 
  who regarded the local landowners with more hatred 
  than the King in far off Spain. In 1814, royalist forces 
  recaptured Caracas and sent Bolívar fleeing the country 
  again. 
  Bolívar returned in 1816 to take charge of a new 
  rebellion. This time started among the commoners of 
  the interior, Bolívar added European mercenaries to his 
  forces and succeeded in liberating much of western 
  Venezuela and Colombia. In 1819, with Caracas still in 
  royalist hands, a Third Republic was established with 
  Bolívar as president. It was in 1821 that Bolívar 
  finished the liberation of Venezuela and the new 
  Republic of Gran Colombia was created. 
  While Bolívar continued his war against the 
  Spanish forces in Peru and Ecuador, the new republic 
  faced its first challenge. The citizens of Caracas 
  resented being ruled from Bogotá, and under General 
  Páez, Venezuela declared its independence from Gran 
  Colombia in 1829. 
  The long decades of the war for independence left 
  the economy of cocoa growers in ruins. Thus it was 
  simple for the nation to adopt the new cash crop, coffee. 
  Over the next ten years the high price of coffee would 
  keep the country stable. By 1846 coffee prices had 
  fallen, resulting in General Páez’s fall from office, to be 
  replaced by General José Tadeo Monagas. Another 
  dictator, he ruled harshly, though he did abolish slavery 
  in 1854. Monagas was driven from power in 1858, 
  leading to a period of chaotic warfare, known as the 
  Federal War. The country did not become stable again 
  until 1870 when Antonio Guzmán Blanco became a 
  dictator. His rule lasted until 1888, during which time 
  he increased the public well being with education and 
  construction of much of the country’s infrastructure. 
  A student riot in 1888 led to Guzmán’s 
  relinquishing control and to another period of chaos 
  lasting until 1892, when General Joaquín Crespo takes 
  control of a military regime. Most of his reign is spent 
  fighting against other power-seekers, until he is killed 
  in 1898. He is replaced by yet another military ruler, 
  General Cipriano Castro, who is still in power at the 
  end of the century. 
  Forbidden Lore 
  This splendid city of South America from which the 
  roots of revolution grew, faced the horror of war 
  numerous times over its history. Ghosts of the natives 
  killed by slavers in the 16th Century, rebellious 
  peasants killed in the uprising against Spanish rule in 
  the early 1800s, and soldiers killed in the many civil 
  wars through the latter part of the 19th Century are all 
  rumored to stalk the city at night. 
  In recent years, the local rancheros have reported a 
  large increase of fatal attacks by vampire bats on their 
  cattle. Local officials are baffled since vampire bats 
  typically do not drain their victims dry, however, 
  recently a number of cattle have been found drained of 
  almost all of their blood. There is speculation that the 
  vampire bat population has grown to such a large size 
  that it forcing the bats to be more aggressive in their 
  search for food. The truth is more diabolic. One of the 
  wealthy cattle ranchers, Miguel Santiago, is behind the 
  attacks. Santiago is a werebat, who controls large flocks 
  of vampire bats that roost near the city. He lives on a 
  large ranch on the outskirts of the city and uses the bats 
  to attack other ranchers’ cattle. As more cattle die, the 
  price of beef will go up, increasing the value of his own 
  cattle. 
  Rumors and myths abound of men that can take the 
  form of giant snakes, living in the interior of the 
  country. At least one were-anaconda (see The Book of 
  Secrets) is known to inhabit the wild region of forest on 
  the southern shores of the Lago de Valencia, Valencia 
  Lake, southwest of Caracas. 
  Approximately one hundred miles east of Caracas 
  is the Laguna de la Tacarigua, the lagoon of the stained 
  water. The waters of this lake are almost black. While 
  the locals believe this phenomenon represents a evil 
  mystical presence, the reason is actually geological. 
  The area around the Laguna de la Tacarigua rests on top 
  of a large petroleum reserve. It is this that stains the 
  lake’s waters black. The dark waters of this large 
  lagoon are connected to the sea through a narrow strait. 
  Many islands of various sizes dot the lagoon, and give 
  it the appearance of a tropical paradise; however, a 
  small school of reavers lairs in the deeper waters of the 
  lagoon. Legends of these devil men of the deep cause 
  the local inhabitants to shun the lagoon and the 
  surrounding area. 
  ! 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: GOTHIC EARTH PLACES 
  205 
  MINNESOTA 
  Horrors in the North Star State 
  by Mike S.W. 
  count_strahd@excite.com 
   
  History 
  wo Frenchmen, who came to hunt furs 
  sometime between 1654 and 1660, are 
  generally credited with having been the first 
  European explorers to reach Minnesota. 
  They were Pierre Esprit Radisson, and Medart Chouart, 
  sieur de Groseilliers. In 1679 Daniel Greysolon, sieur 
  du Lhut, made peace between the Sioux and Chippewa 
  where Duluth now stands. At Mille Lacs Lake he 
  claimed the region for France. Father Hennepin went up 
  the Mississippi in 1680 and discovered St. Anthony 
  Falls. Between 1731 and 1743 Pierre Gaultier de 
  Varennes, sieur de la Verendrye, and his sons 
  established a canoe route from Lake Superior to Lake 
  Winnipeg. After the French and Indian War, France 
  ceded all land east of the Mississippi to Britain. British 
  companies—Hudson’s Bay and North West—
  controlled the fur trade. Grand Portage was the chief 
  post. 
  Britain ceded the land east of the Mississippi to the 
  United States in 1783.Twenty years later, the United 
  States bought the western area in the Louisiana 
  Purchase. President Thomas Jefferson sent Zebulon M. 
  Pike to explore the upper Mississippi in 1805. The 
  American Fur Company took over the fur trade in 1816. 
  In 1819 United States troops established Fort St. 
  Anthony at the mouth of the Minnesota River. After 
  1825 it was called Fort Snelling. Lewis Cass reached 
  Cass Lake in 1820. Major Stephen Long located the 
  49th parallel in 1823. Henry Schoolcraft established the 
  source of the Mississippi as Lake Itasca in 1832. 
  Missionaries began to work among the Native 
  Americans, and by the mid-1800s they had developed 
  an alphabet of the Sioux language. The present state 
  capital is named for the Chapel of St. Paul, which 
  Father Lucian Galtier built on the city’s site in 1841. In 
  1837 the Indians had ceded their land between the St. 
  Croix and the Mississippi rivers. The opening of a land 
  office at St. Croix Falls in 1848 drew many settlers. 
  After Congress created the Territory of Minnesota in 
  1849 and the Sioux gave up land in the south and west 
  in 1851, more settlers arrived. The Chippewa ceded 
  timberland in the north in 1854–55. 
  On May 11, 1858, Minnesota became the 32nd 
  state. Almost 22,000 troops from the new state served 
  in the American Civil War. After the first of these 
  troops left in 1862, the Sioux rose and massacred more 
  than 400 settlers in the Minnesota River valley. They 
  were later defeated near the German settlement of New 
  Ulm. 
  After the war, many more settlers came from 
  Europe. Railroads spanned the state. Most of the 
  farmland was golden with wheat. Lumbering is peaking 
  as a buisness in Minnesota. Also at this time Minnesota 
  is providing most of America’s iron ore, discoveries of 
  huge taconite (low-grade iron ore) deposits on the 
  southern edge of Minnesota’s Mesabi Range and the 
  development of a commercially feasible method of 
  processing the taconite gave new thrust to this valuable 
  industry. The first iron ore shipment from the 
  Vermilion Range was made in 1884; from the Mesabi 
  Range, in 1892. Minnesota’s favorable growing season 
  helps make it a leading agricultural state. 
  Forbidden Lore 
  The dark grasp of the Red Death permeates the very air 
  in Minnesota, making the chill winter winds seem that 
  much colder. Though Minnesota has been tainted by the 
  touch of the Red Death the land itself seems to be 
  fighting back. For some reason unknown to the Red 
  Death and its minions, lycanthropes seem unable to 
  enter most of the state, with the exceptions of a few 
  places around the borders. This odd protection seems to 
  be the result of an ancient spell that was cast here just a 
  few years after the European settlers came to the New 
  World. It is believed that this powerful spell was cast 
  by the ancestors of the present day Chippewa Indians to 
  protect their land from the terrible evil they sensed 
  coming with the newcomers. 
  Of course this minor problem has not stopped other 
  minions of the Red Death from bringing the foul touch 
  of evil to Minnesota. Some of the more common beings  
  T 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: GOTHIC EARTH PLACES 
  206 
  of terror in Minnesota are living scarecrows (see the 
  Golem, Necrophidius and Scarecrow entries in the 
  Monstrous Manual) which populate the farmlands of 
  the state. The land is also infested with all manner of 
  non-corporeal undead, especially shadows and wraiths. 
  While corporeal forms of undead are present, they are 
  very rare. 
  Ice Spectres 
  The 1862 massacre of about four hundred settlers by 
  the Sioux in the Minnesota River Valley created many 
  spectres that now haunt that area. Unlike normal 
  spectres they do not drain energy levels. These spectres 
  drain heat (this power is exactly the same as the Heat 
  Drain power described for Jezra Wagner in the 
  RAVENLOFT MONSTROUS COMPENDIUM Appendix I&II) 
  and leave their frozen corpses to scare away intruders 
  from their lairs. These minions of darkness are only 
  active during the long winter months and disappear as 
  soon as all of the snow has melted off the ground till 
  next year. 
  The Red Rock 
  In the township of Newport, which is only about ten 
  miles southeast of St. Paul, there stands a curious 
  monument to the former residents of this area: a large 
  stone on the east side of the Mississippi River called the 
  Red Rock. The Sioux once used this large stone for 
  ritualistic purposes. The name “Red Rock” was a 
  misnomer in reference to a ritual the Sioux used to 
  perform annually at the stone to ensure a year of good 
  hunting. The Indians would paint red stripes on the 
  stone with red pigment. They would then proceed to 
  chant and pray around the stone for the rest of the night. 
  In the past few years the Sioux who used to continue 
  this ritual even after Minnesota became a state have 
  stopped coming to pray at the stone each year. Two 
  years after the Sioux last performed this ritual a young 
  Sioux female named Eyes of a Fox came to the Red 
  Rock and performed the ritual again—with one small 
  difference. She did not use paint but human blood to 
  paint the stripes on the Red Rock. This evil act 
  transformed Eyes of a Fox into a zombie lord (see 
  RAVENLOFT MONSTROUS COMPENDIUM Appendix I) the 
  corrupting influence of the power she has gained has 
  prompted Eyes of a Fox to use that power to take 
  revenge on the citizens of Newport for driving her 
  people off their land. 
  Fatal Storms 
  Southern Minnesota in recent years has been plagued 
  by unusually frequent visitations by tornadoes. In fact 
  on July 13, 1890 two distinct tornadoes form: one a few  
  miles north of St. Paul, and the other, especially violent 
  and destructive, on Lake Pepin. In both storms over 100 
  people perish, and a considerable amount of property is 
  destroyed. Some theorize that the sudden increase in 
  storm activity is being caused by a powerful demon. 
  This theory is of course scoffed at by most. What most 
  don’t realize is that what they take for a storm is 
  actually a living creature. A pair of tempests (see the 
  Elemental, Composite entry in the Monstrous Manual.) 
  that long ago became trapped on Gothic Earth have 
  been corrupted by the Red Death. Now their normally 
  chaotic dispositions have been peppered with acts of 
  intentional malice and hate. 
  A Dirty Little Secret 
  A small town called Coon Rapids has cut off all contact 
  with the rest of Minnesota and the outside world. It is 
  rumored that a doppelganger plant has transformed 
  most of the citizens of this town into podlings (Both of 
  these creatures are detailed in the RAVENLOFT 
  MONSTROUS COMPENDIUM Appendix I) and now it seeks 
  to extend its influence further into Minnesota. Several 
  agents of the forces of good have gone to investigate 
  this matter but none have returned. 
  Federal Courts Building 
  Bad luck has fallen on the crew building the Federal 
  Courts Building in the city of St. Paul. It seems that 
  somebody does not wish the project to go forward for 
  unknown reasons and is sabotaging the building site. 
  The wokers’ foreman has received inconsistent reports 
  about a small winged devil causing all the mishaps. The 
  foreman, Hienrich Kliensasser, believes these tales to 
  be the tales of drunks and negligent workers and has 
  fired any man who even suggests that the bad luck is 
  due to some supernatural influence. 
  ! 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: GOTHIC EARTH PLACES 
  207 
  BOGOTÁ 
  A Wartorn Land in Gothic South America 
  by Daniel Bandera 
  daniel.j.bandera@us.pwcglobal.com 
   
  Santa Fe de Bogotá 
  his old colonial city, situated in a valley 
  high in the Andes Mountains, enjoys warm 
  springlike weather all year long. Despite the 
  pleasant climate, the city has been the center 
  of much of the country’s political troubles that have 
  disturbed Colombia since its founding. 
  History 
  European settlement of Bogotá began when Gonzalo 
  Jiménez de Quesada, the Knight of El Dorado, 
  conquered Bacatá, the capital of the Chibcha Indians. 
  On the site he founded the settlement of Santa Fe de 
  Bacatá. The Spanish settlers soon corrupted the name to 
  Bogotá. An audenica was established to rule the new 
  colony of New Granada. The audencia was a tribunal 
  that had both administrative and judicial powers over 
  the colony, but was subordinate to the viceroy of Peru. 
  As the settlement grew over the years, it 
  maintained a large degree of independence due to the 
  difficulties of travel between Lima and Bogotá. In order 
  to influence more control over the colony, Spain 
  established a new viceroyalty, New Granada, and 
  Bogotá became the capital.  
  In 1808, when France invaded Spain, Bogotá 
  remained loyal to the Spanish king. But by 1810, a 
  rebellion had grown against Spain amongst the rural 
  workers of New Granada, and the colony was declared 
  independent of the kingdom later that year. 
  Independence did not last long, as numerous factions 
  competed for power in the new country. This infighting 
  weakened the new republic and allowed Spain to 
  reconquer New Granada by 1816. 
  In the aftermath of the reconquest, Spanish troops 
  committed a number of acts of brutality against the 
  citizens of Bogotá and other cities in New Granada in 
  reprisal for the rebellion. This lead to much resentment 
  and many of the citizens of New Granada flocked to the 
  banner of the Venezuelan freedom fighter Simón 
  Bolivar. After his victory at the Battle of Boyacá, the 
  republic of Gran Colombia was declared in 1819. 
  The new republic did not last long. In less than a 
  decade, separatists in Venezuela and Ecuador declared 
  independence from Gran Colombia. In 1830, a new 
  constitution was adopted for the Republic of New 
  Granada, with Simón Bolivar ruling as dictator. Half a 
  century later the name of the country was changed back 
  to Colombia. 
  Beginning in 1840 the political conflict between 
  the Federalists and the Centralist Parties often erupted 
  into civil war over the next forty years. During the 
  twenty-year rule of the Federalists party from 1861–
  1880, a new constitution was adopted that set limits on 
  the central government as well as the Catholic Church. 
  In addition a number of land reform acts were past, 
  aimed at giving more freedom to the masses. Instead 
  these reforms allowed the rich to increase their hold 
  over land ownership and forced the native Indians into 
  serfdom. Resentment of these reforms led to rebellion. 
  Fighting these rebellions was hampered by the new 
  constitution, which set a limit on the size of the 
  country’s army, keeping it at such a small level that it 
  was prevented from being able to effectively fight the 
  rebels. 
  In 1880 the Centralists returned to power. Rafael 
  Nuñez, in a fifteen-year-presidency, restored the power 
  of the central government and the church. In 1899 a 
  bloody civil war erupts, led by Federalists who object to 
  these reforms. As the century closes there is no end in 
  sight to this bloodiest of the country’s civil wars. 
  Forbidden Lore 
  Situated on the site of the capital of the Chibchal 
  Indians, their culture still affects Bogotá today. A large 
  minority of the city’s population is descended from the 
  Chibchals, and their mystics and adepts are still present 
  among the inhabitants. A number of the evil mystics 
  have been drawn into a secret qabal, called the Arrows 
  of Sagipa, in honor of one of the last Chibchalan kings. 
  The cult’s leader is called Authulapac and claims to be  
  T 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: GOTHIC EARTH PLACES 
  208 
  an ancient high priest of the Chibchal who has come 
  back from the afterlife to expel the infidels from their 
  sacred land. While Authulapac does have minor adept 
  skills, being a 5th-level adept, he is actually a vampire 
  named Thuáshcan. Thuáshcan is of Chibchalan descent, 
  but is not ancient, having been born in 1815 and made 
  into a vampire sometime in the 1840s. 
  Quesada has often been referred to as the Knight of 
  El Dorado, due to his numerous determined attempts to 
  find the legendary golden city in the jungles of 
  Colombia and Venezuela. Many men shared Quesada’s 
  dream and joined him on his quests, but most found 
  only death in the dark jungles. Quesada himself died 
  from leprosy contracted during his last expedition for El 
  Dorado at the age of seventy. No one ever found the 
  fabulous city of gold, and most scholars believe the city 
  was only a legend. The truth is unknown, but the 
  jungles of Colombia are haunted by the spirits of a 
  number of men who continue their search for the 
  legendary city. 
  The residences of Bogotá are use to bands of 
  traveling gypsies wandering into the city. These 
  vagabonds make a living as traveling field hands during 
  harvesting times and supplement their earnings by 
  entertaining crowds with their variant of typical 
  Spanish folk songs and dances. Recently, a number of 
  these bands have fallen under the influence of a 
  darkling, Guiseppi Constantini. Guiseppi is a fallen 
  Vistana; cast out of his tribe in Eastern Europe for an 
  unknown affront, he fled their vengeance, escaping to 
  the New World. Taking advantage of the local gypsies’ 
  natural superstitions, he was able to establish a 
  controlling influence over a few of the local tribes. 
  These tribes now earn their living through theft and 
  trickery, while giving tribute from their thefts to 
  Guiseppi. Their actions have given all gypsies a bad 
  name throughout Colombia, and the people are no 
  longer as welcome to see the traveling entertainers as 
  before. 
  ! 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: GOTHIC EARTH PLACES 
  209 
  MANILA 
  A Crossroads Colony in the Gothic Philippenes 
  by Dion Fernandez 
  avignon@thedoghousemail.com 
   
  Manila 
  trategically located on Luzon island in the 
  Spanish colony of the Philippines, Manila is 
  the crossroads of Asia. It is a perfect blend 
  of the romantic West and the exotic Orient, 
  and rivals cities such as Tokyo and Singapore as the 
  greatest port city in the Far East. Dozens of ships from 
  India, Hong Kong, Singapore, Malaya and the East 
  India Company dock at the bustling Manila de Bay 
  every day, making this colonial city the melting pot of 
  the continent. 
  Manila is also on the brink of chaos: The city faces 
  uncertainty as bands of secessionists roam the 
  countryside. The dominant Spanish regime, not about to 
  let go of their colony’s natural, economic and human 
  resources, remains on constant alert against 
  insubordination, and thus considers the city as a 
  stronghold of the empire’s waning might. 
  History 
  Indonesian and Malay tribesmen founded a small 
  village by the river Pasig sometime in the 10th Century, 
  calling this settlement Maynilad. Until the beginning of 
  the 15th Century Maynilad was a port of call used by 
  Chinese, Arabian and Indian merchants. Eventually, 
  continuous trade among its Asian neighbors brought 
  progress and fame to the settlement, expanding until 
  finally emerging as a small sultanate, ruled over by a 
  sovereign called the Raja. 
  On April 14, 1521, the Portuguese explorer 
  Ferdinand Magellan landed on Limasawa Island, south 
  of Maynilad. He was later killed in a conflict created by 
  Limasawa’s chieftain Lapu-Lapu. Years later, in 1570, 
  the Spanish conquistador Miguel Lopez de Legazpi, 
  under orders from King Carlos I, sent a contingent to 
  defeat the armies of Maynilad’s last Raja, Solaiman, 
  and succeeded. Renaming the city Manila, Legazpi 
  declares it the colonial capital of Las Islas Felipenas, 
  and seat of the mighty Spanish Empire in Asia. Spain 
  ordered trade between Manila and its Asian neighbors 
  closed. 
  In succeeding years Manila became a key city in 
  the Pacific galleon trade with Acapulco in Mexico. The 
  oldest European university in Asia, Universidad de 
  Santo Tomas, opened its doors to the native folk. 
  Manila also became the seat of the Roman Catholic 
  Church in the Far East, delegated by Dominican friars 
  who helped build the massive Manila Cathedral, a 
  masterpiece of Baroque architecture located at the city 
  center. The real seat of power, however, lay nearby at 
  the walled enclave of Intramuros, the so-called “city 
  within a city.” Within its black walls the governor-
  general of the Philippines ruled his colony with an iron 
  fist. 
  On July 23, 1762, in a small footnote of the Seven 
  Years War, a British general named William Draper 
  commanded a fleet to occupy Manila de Bay. Some 
  days later the British occupied Intramuros and ruled 
  Manila until 1764. In that year Spain and England 
  agreed upon a pact, and as a result the former once 
  again regained power in the Philippines. 
  In the year 1830, in what seemed to be a message 
  of goodwill, Spain reopened Manila’s doors to 
  international trade. Thus began a period of economic 
  boom unprecedented by anyone since 1570. A steady 
  flow of rural folk from outlying towns emerged 
  regardless of political and religious restrictions and 
  maltreatment. The city grew eastward, from the low 
  cliffs of Manila de Bay to the flat lands and hills of the 
  east bounded by the vast Lawa de Laguna. The grid 
  plan was still maintained ever since the Spanish seized 
  Manila: the Spanish nobility still surrounded the 
  Cathedral and its sacred grounds, while the less 
  fortunate native folk (called “indios”) still had to stay 
  farther away from this sanctuary. 
  Calls for reform and even secession from the 
  mother country Spain were sounded within the eight 
  rural districts, called provincias, surrounding Manila, 
  but these were easily quelled by the Spanish 
  government and the Dominican Order. On July 7, 1892, 
  a small group of secessionists bands together to form 
  the Katipunan (“The Blood-Brotherhood”). This 
  S 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: GOTHIC EARTH PLACES 
  210 
  collective, active up to the close of the 19th Century, 
  aims to resist any and all forms of European oppression 
  to found an independent Philippine republic. 
  The city still retains most of its Baroque 
  architecture, beautifully blending in with the native 
  Indo-Malayan style. A few recognizable Chinese 
  structures stand, especially in the district of Binondo. 
  Victorian architecture is rare, though the Manila 
  Cathedral supports a few adaptations of the style, ever 
  since it was rebuilt in 1874 after part of its structure 
  collapsed in an earthquake. 
  In the 1890s Manila is fast approaching a period of 
  political upheaval and revolution. Calls for 
  independence from Spain are frequent in dialogues 
  between the city folk. The Spanish government, 
  including the Dominicans, keeps a tight head even if 
  both are slowly loosening their grip on an already hot 
  situation. The ever-vigilant Spanish Guardia Civil 
  keeps watch over the actions of the secretive Katipunan 
  as word of its mission spreads throughout Luzon and 
  the Visayan islands far to the South. 
  Forbidden Lore 
  As a cosmopolitan city that ironically still retains its 
  ancient tribal ways and huge passion for religion, many 
  of Manila’s inhabitants still talk about things no one 
  could really explain. 
  Ancient spirits of Maynilad still walk the urban 
  streets, crying for vengeance due to the destruction of 
  their simple pacifist culture. Raja Solaiman’s ghost is 
  still said to walk the district of Tondo and the Pasig 
  riverside, now both covered with sewage and refuse. 
  Hideous ghouls and banshees stare into houses at 
  night, striking terror into those who see them. Headless 
  men holding torches walk the rice paddies outside the 
  city. Nighttime at Manila de Bay brings reports from 
  night watchmen who claim to see clear outlines of 
  sunken ships and galleons bathed in a faint blue light 
  sailing on the horizon. Worse still are the almost 
  weekly reports of dead bodies by the bay’s edge, killed 
  for no visible reason. Some say a murderer with the 
  power to move objects with his mind is responsible for 
  the killings, others say that the elusive bayfolk, half-
  man half-shark, are to blame. 
  Huge white spectral dogs wander about the streets 
  of Intramuros at night. Old folk also have accounts of 
  hag-like creatures flying with huge bat wings, perching 
  on rooftops and feeding on life forces. 
  Somewhere in the provincia of Tarlac lives an old 
  woman named Katarina Trinidad. The Katipunan see 
  her as a minion of the Red Death. According to the 
  liberationists’ reports Katarina is well over two hundred 
  years old, and was given the power to create endless 
  hordes of flesh golems, of different forms and features.  
  These she uses to terrorize the folk of Manila, and to 
  effortlessly control secessionist uprising against both 
  the Spanish government and the Red Death. 
  Many more, probably fictitious, stories and 
  accounts abound, from the white-clad maiden who 
  walks the quiet neighborhood of Balete to the restless 
  coffins of the Great Churchyard. No vampires abound, 
  yet reports of other walking undead are more rampant 
  and multitudinous that ever. There are also a number of 
  reports of “aswang” (raksashas) and kuei terrorizing the 
  eight provincias. 
  With Manila under siege due to gossip, 
  speculation, and talk of revolution and civil war, no one 
  could really be sure of anything. Every story, no matter 
  how ridiculous or outlandish, is considered as fact. In a 
  place where cultures blend in an uneasy truce, and 
  where loyalties and sides are blurring, no one, not even 
  the secretive Katipunan, could be trusted. 
  ! 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: GOTHIC EARTH PLACES 
  211 
  RAPA NUI 
  The Gods are Silent, the Last Circle is Broken 
  by Hugo Viegas Nascimento 
  shadowspawn_the_dragon@hotmail.com 
   
  There is no place in the world more 
  solitary than this island, all alone in the 
  largest ocean of Earth. 
  —Michel Croce-Spinelli,  
  The Island of the Stone Giants 
  History 
  rom the end of the eighteenth century to the 
  close of the nineteenth, history speaks of the 
  many triumphs, scientific discoveries, and 
  glorious growth of human civilization, 
  reaching the farthest corners of the world. However, it 
  usually fails to mention the price. The effects of regular 
  contacts between different cultures, for example, range 
  from slow cultural absorption and the consequent 
  downfall of ancient traditions to outright devastation. 
  Such was the condition of most aboriginal cultures met 
  by European expeditions since the fourteenth century, 
  and as the “civilized world” advanced, so did 
  corruption, social segregation and, worst of all, the Red 
  Death and its minions. The Ancient Enemy quickly 
  expanded its wicked talons throughout the conquered 
  lands, destroying each and every magical or 
  philosophical attempt to stop its progress, under the 
  disguise of a “civilized approach on primitive 
  behaviors”. 
  This was the case with a small, isolated island 
  some 2,500 nautical miles away from Tahiti, called 
  Easter Island by the Dutch Admiral Roggerween, as his 
  ship came close to one of the island’s only two shores 
  on the Easter Sunday of 1722. His crew was frightened 
  at first by the sight of the dozens of giant heads that 
  seemed to encircle the entire island. For hours they 
  thought of sea monsters and old legends, until they 
  could see normal-sized silhouettes walking around the 
  giants. 
  Admiral Roggerween did not even set foot on land, 
  as the tattooed natives looked savage and dangerous. 
  When they came near the ships on their long canoes, he 
  ordered the cannons to fire at any native boat that came 
  too near. The thunderous roar, the smoke and the 
  obvious deadly effects of those strange weapons 
  startled the natives, who quickly turned back to the 
  island. As he did not see a single palm tree on the 
  barren shores, the Admiral took the island for a cursed 
  place and left it behind, scarcely sparing it a second 
  glance. 
  More than fifty years passed before another 
  expedition arrived at the island. That time, and on each 
  new fleet that came through the next hundred years, 
  communication between natives and visitors was slowly 
  made possible, and a small portion of the place’s 
  history was finally unveiled. Unfortunately for the local 
  inhabitants, it only added to the common sense that 
  aborigines were uncivilized people who needed to be 
  “helped and enlightened.” 
  From the natives, the Europeans and South 
  Americans learned that the island was originally called 
  Rapa Nui, meaning “The World’s Navel,” because it 
  was believed to be the most isolated place of the Great 
  Ocean, and was actually considered by its inhabitants 
  the very center of the world. They also explained how 
  their ancestors came to the island more than a thousand 
  years before, having departed from a far away land 
  named Marae Renga (probably Polynesia) boarding 
  long canoes and following their spiritual and secular 
  leader, King Hotu-Motua. By that time, the island had 
  been a lush tropical garden, full of plant life. But now, 
  at the end of the nineteenth century, it was little more 
  than a desolate rock surrounded by gusting winds and 
  high waves in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. 
  By the 1890s, Easter Island has developed a little, 
  but a lot remains to be done (and discovered). 
  Archeological expeditions visit the island when the 
  weather permits. The same blasts of chilling winds and 
  gales, that greeted the first natives hundreds of years 
  ago, still make sea travel difficult and shaken at best, 
  F 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: GOTHIC EARTH PLACES 
  212 
  impossible at worst. More than one ship has sank while 
  trying to reach one the island’s only two beaches. It 
  looks as if the island itself does not want people to set 
  foot on its exhausted lands, on its barren soil. 
  From all sides, rows of stone giants silently stare at 
  the visitors and the sea behind them. Almost no statue 
  is complete, most no longer wear the exquisite flat 
  bonnets Admiral Roggerween saw adorning their heads 
  more than a century ago. There is little natural plant 
  life, although legends tell of a vast jungle. The few, 
  scattered small palm trees and bushes have been planted 
  by the previous expeditions in an attempt to grow new 
  food sources. But it seems that the earth refuses to 
  create new life, as if the whole place had been cursed. 
  And the truth is not far from this. 
  The less than one thousand natives who still live 
  here have chicken and fish as their major food sources. 
  All of them are considered Catholic, and no one seems 
  to even remember the traditional ways of their old 
  religion. They look like people who need guidance and 
  support. It is difficult to believe that this island has 
  housed thousands of natives who somehow managed to 
  raise such gargantuan beauties, such exotic totems, 
  whose purpose is all but forgotten. No one can read the 
  carvings and paintings on the stone walls, and even 
  their native language is so mixed with Spanish that no 
  native seems able to speak a whole sentence in Rapa 
  Nui’s ancient idiom. 
  Forbidden Lore 
  King Hotu-Motua the Founder was not the savage 
  native the European priests believed him to be, but 
  actually a wise man from a lineage of powerful 
  shamans. A few hundred years before, his ancestors had 
  been advised by their Ancient Gods about an invisible, 
  unreachable entity they simply called “The Enemy of 
  the Gods”, that had arrived in a faraway land and was, 
  slowly but steadily, dominating entire nations and 
  destroying the cults of nature spirits, corrupting 
  shamans and the very Mother Earth. Unbeknownst to 
  them, they were actually referring to the Red Death, 
  which was spreading its influence over Africa and the 
  Middle East. 
  At that early time, that malevolent entity was either 
  unaware of their knowledge (as they learned of its 
  existence through indirect means) or too busy striking 
  down the last remnants of the Defiance, so they were 
  relatively safe for a while. But they knew their time 
  would come, and instead of fighting, they decided to 
  withdraw and build up defenses. 
  They had set plans for a whole immigration to an 
  isolated place, where they would once again commune 
  with the Ancient Gods and create a colossal mystical 
  barrier, preparing themselves against invasions of all 
  kinds, both material and spiritual. After centuries of 
  preparation, when the tribes were ready to go, Hotu-
  Motua took upon himself the responsibility of guiding 
  his people from their old homes into a holy quest for 
  their sacred haven. 
  They left Marae Renga (possibly Polynesia) in long 
  canoes, oared by hundreds of men. None of the 
  surrounding islands served their purposes, for if they 
  could easily reach them, so could The Enemy. They 
  traveled for several weeks, fighting gales and schools of 
  ravenous sharks, fishing and stopping here and there at 
  small rocky islands to gather water and coconuts. When 
  they had almost lost all hope, the scouting canoes 
  brought back the long-expected news: there was a 
  tropical island in the direction of the rising sun, away 
  from all others, full of plants and animals, and with a 
  small, dormant volcanic mountain chain. The island 
  was very difficult to reach, for the currents leaded 
  elsewhere, and the howling winds and huge waves were 
  quite deadly. 
  Hotu-Motua was happy with the discovery, and 
  against all odds the united tribes landed there, even 
  though dozens of people either had drowned or been 
  eaten by sharks. The survivors took their long canoes 
  from the water and turned them upside down, using 
  them as their first tents and at the same time making 
  sure they would never leave the island again. They 
  named the island Rapa Nui, the World’s Navel, for two 
  reasons: first, because of its obvious isolation in Mother 
  Earth’s watery “belly”, and second, because that place 
  would be, in the future, the only connection between 
  material life and the spiritual world. Like a infant’s 
  navel that had to be cut once he was born, and kept as a 
  reminder of his link with his mother, Rapa Nui would 
  be cut from the rest of the planet and stay as a spiritual 
  link to Mother Earth. 
  But their holy task was just beginning. The 
  shamans, fetishists and mystics gathered around the 
  communal fire and laid plans which would take 
  generations to fulfill. They were to go into the volcanic 
  mountain and carve giant totems called “Tikki” for the 
  Ancient Gods, to be imbued with the spiritual essence 
  of their own dead, and would plant such statues on the 
  shores and hills all around the island, magically sealing 
  it. 
  Once set, the massive cooperative spell would 
  make the island invisible to the eyes both of mortal men 
  and of The Enemy. Their gods and nature spirits would 
  have enough concentrated energy to maintain the spell 
  active for centuries. And, once the world outside once 
  again found peace and turned back to the ways of the 
  Ancient Gods, only then would Rapa Nui become 
  visible again. 
  Their first problem was to gather enough people to 
  carve and transport all of the giant statues. A small 
  group of brave men traveled back to Marae Renga, to 
  tell their relatives and friendly neighbors about the holy 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: GOTHIC EARTH PLACES 
  213 
  place and call them to go there, while the vast majority 
  of the population began to learn the necessary crafts. 
  For years, no one did even come close to the volcanic 
  rocks. From father to son, they taught each other how to 
  shape the stone and make sturdy wooden carts of the 
  trees, to carry the statues to their final resting places. 
  From mother to daughter, they learned how to paint and 
  decorate the images. Both men and women passed the 
  enchanted songs of summoning and hailing spirits 
  throughout generations. When Hotu-Motua died an old 
  man, no statue had yet been erected. His body was 
  buried and his soul contained through old spells, 
  awaiting the First Ascension. Meanwhile, more canoes 
  came from Marae Renga, bringing more families, 
  animals and plant seeds. 
  Little more than two centuries had passed since 
  their arrival when they finally felt sure of their skills 
  and the time came for the First Ascension. They slowly 
  and carefully cut the stone and took it away from its 
  bedrock, erecting the first Tikki. They consecrated the 
  idol biding Hotu-Motua’s spirit to it, with visible 
  success. It seemed that their plan would work, after all. 
  However, unbeknownst to the fugitives, the very 
  same strategy they were using against the Enemy of the 
  Gods would be the cause for their undoing. After first 
  entering Gothic Earth, the Red Death was still too weak 
  and small to spread its influence over many lands at 
  once. When the Lost Kingdom used ancient and 
  powerful spells to seal itself against the intrusion of the 
  Enemy, the malignant entity grew wary of further such 
  attempts. As Hotu-Motua’s spirit was bound to the first 
  Tikki, thousands of miles away, the Red Death 
  immediately stirred, sensing gigantic magical waves 
  coming through the land, from an unknown source. 
  Believing that either the Lost Kingdom had 
  reappeared or another group of mortals was about to 
  gain the upper hand against it once again, the Red 
  Death immediately set about to send minions from Asia 
  to find and undermine those efforts. Conscious that it 
  would be impossible to properly infiltrate the whole 
  Asian continent and find the hidden place in a short 
  period, it decided to change tactics in that particular 
  matter, rapidly spreading minions to various places at 
  once, all going farther to the East, planting only a few 
  seeds of evil in the way, while looking for the exact 
  direction of its daring foes. The opportunity finally 
  came, in the hands of the very ones who would try to do 
  their best to avoid its influence entirely. 
  Happy with their apparent initial success, the 
  natives feverishly labored day and night, giving little 
  importance to everything else. They knew that, despite 
  their better efforts, it would still take many generations 
  for them to finish their holy task. They made more 
  Tikkis and set them in lines across beaches and hills, 
  intent to face the Great Sea at all sides and thus close 
  the warding barrier. For a brief moment, it looked like 
  they would win the race against evil. 
  But, as the years passed and new generations 
  followed the elder ones, the younger natives started to 
  doubt the priority of that task. With the continuous 
  arrival of more and more families from Marae Renga, it 
  seemed clear that Rapa Nui was not at all as isolated as 
  their ancestors had thought. And they never imagined 
  how disturbingly correct they were. At some point 
  during the thousand-year immigration, minions from 
  the Red Death finally landed there. The Tikkis already 
  in place and the powerful spirits bound to them 
  effectively warded Rapa Nui against two-way mystical 
  communication, so that the Enemy was still partially 
  blinded to their true goals and means of fulfilling them, 
  but its followers were wise and patient. Subtly they 
  ascended to positions of influence and started to 
  weaken the moral and old beliefs. Content that its 
  minions had certainly arrived in the hidden place (as 
  they partially lost contact with their primary source of 
  corrupted power but were still alive), the Red Death left 
  them for their own devices and continued with its subtle 
  growth towards the West. 
  The arrivals of canoes were followed by a few 
  departures, too. Some people started to think of their 
  governors and mystics as crazy old crones, full of old 
  superstitions. They decided to escape the island before 
  it overpopulated, but instead of going back, preferred to 
  follow the same direction, going to the rising sun. those 
  eventually reached the west coast of South America. As 
  the Red Death had not yet taken a firm root in Rapa 
  Nui, it was unable to follow those islanders to the New 
  World, and they were relatively safe until the arrival of 
  the Spanish conquerors in South America. These were 
  few and far between, though, compared to the much 
  larger number of arrivals. 
  Soon a new generation replaced the old, and a new 
  structure of power was established in Rapa Nui: not 
  only the Royal Family members were rulers, but every 
  distant relative to them considered him- or herself a 
  ruler, too. Two castes were defined: the Long Ears 
  (rulers) and the Short Ears (commoners). The Long 
  Ears refused to help in the carving, painting and 
  carrying of the stones, saving themselves for the “more 
  subtle and important task” of enchanting the stones. By 
  that time, an ever-growing number of Red Death 
  minions took positions among the Long Ears, feeding 
  the social prejudice. They took most of the food 
  production for themselves, leaving the Short Ears with 
  barely enough goods to keep a rough survival. Many 
  Short Ears starved and some became sick, but then the 
  Long Ears whipped them into slavery. 
  Eventually, a civil war exploded. The Tikkis 
  themselves were a matter of ever decreasing importance 
  in light of the power struggle, the reason behind then 
  left behind as a foolish superstition. The starved, 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: GOTHIC EARTH PLACES 
  214 
  oppressed Short Ears began to undermine the work, and 
  finally attacked the lazy Long Ears. At first, their 
  guards were able to suppress the weakened rebels, but 
  in the end the chaotic masses overthrew them all. 
  Unfortunately, the peoples had grown so devoted to the 
  holy task that they forgot more mundane affairs and 
  even the other aspects of natural life, having destroyed 
  every last palm tree in order to make rolling devices for 
  the increasingly large stone idols, which had been 
  devoid of true devotional power for a few years. Such 
  new Tikkis were unfinished and inappropriate for their 
  holy task. They simply interrupted the line of protection 
  and weakened the warding circle even more. The 
  psychic effect was obvious, as the population broke into 
  an outright massacre. 
  As if it were not so bad already, the famished Short 
  Ears, seeing the devastation they had caused to the land 
  and blaming the Long Ears for that, decided to resort to 
  new, even more wicked methods. They reasoned that, if 
  the Long Ears had deprived them of food, then the 
  Long Ears should replace that food, with their own 
  flesh if necessary. So they added cannibalism to the list 
  of atrocities. Disgusted, the nature spirits turned away 
  from the people, and the oldest Tikkis, which once had 
  been able to subtly communicate with the wise men, 
  became silent. Deep within the first Tikki, Hotu-
  Motua’s soul wept. 
  Then, one morning, everything changed. Strange, 
  huge canoes came from the sunrise horizon, with white 
  clouds right above them. The Long Ears thought them 
  to be gods, finally coming to rescue them. But when 
  they approached the ships, thundering roars and bloody 
  destruction greeted them. They turned back and would 
  never again try to reach the gods. The Red Death, 
  whose minions had subtly infiltrated most expeditions, 
  smiled as it was finally able to see the results of its 
  centuries-old plan. 
  Other “gods” came and went during the next 
  century, while the natives became more and more 
  uncultured and savage. They shied away from the white 
  men, but with every new expedition a few more were 
  taken as prisoners or slaves. Then a new king was able 
  to establish a dynasty and tried to reorganize the 
  society, to retake the holy task left behind about one 
  hundred years before, and to prepare a defense against 
  the “evil white gods” from the East. 
  But it was too late: most of the population had 
  degenerated to a state of total savagery and 
  cannibalism. The Tikkis, which were built to ward off 
  the evil from outside the island, held no power to stop 
  the evil that came from within. Eventually, a fleet of 
  slave ships arrived and took the king, his court and 
  everyone else who tried to approach them as captives. 
  They were sent into slavery in the mines in South 
  America. They rarefied air of the mines and subhuman 
  conditions decimated them. The next year, the local 
  government was forced by French authorities to release 
  them and send them back to Rapa Nui. From a thousand 
  slaves taken, only one hundred boarded the ship, and 
  only fifteen survived the voyage home. They brought 
  with them memories of the treatment they had received 
  from the continentals, and brought something more: 
  new diseases which quickly spread through the 
  weakened people. 
  One year later, only about 600 natives were left 
  from a population which had reached thousands. Father 
  Eugène Eyraud came to Easter Island to convert them 
  to Catholicism and “save their souls”. They arrested 
  him, tried to torture and experiment with him just as 
  they had suffered from the other white men. But his 
  faith and strong will prevailed, and eventually he 
  converted a lot of them. His assistant, Friar Roussel, 
  managed to gather other priests and started a massive 
  baptism. That gave the natives new hope, but also 
  disrupted the last remnants of their ancient, natural 
  magic. No adepts or mystics had survived in the last 
  years, and no one knew enough of their old ways to 
  pass the knowledge ahead. It seemed that the Enemy 
  had finally won the battle. 
  Or so it seemed. Actually, one young fetishist was 
  able to secretly show the truth to Father Eyraud. At first 
  he dismissed the information given as mere 
  superstition, but the unnamed man took him deep into 
  the volcanic mountain and showed to him ancient 
  carvings in the very walls. He then demonstrated how 
  the natural magic worked, and was even able to briefly 
  conjure one ancestor spirit, that of Hotu-Motua, who 
  was finally able to talk again. The interior of the 
  volcano was still partially warded against the evil from 
  abroad, as each and every one of the elder Tikkis had 
  been sculpted and raised there with faith and 
  determination. In that last sacred place, Father Eyraud 
  learned of the Enemy and the necessary measures to 
  keep it away. He was reluctant, but in the end he left the 
  cave changed and a bit shaken, believing in the spirit’s 
  words. 
  When he returned to the small village, though, he 
  was attacked from behind by a cloaked stranger, 
  actually a low-rank mummy, one of the last corrupt 
  shamans of the civil war period, risen from the dead by 
  the Red Death. His companion vanished from sight. His 
  wounds festered and the windy sea air helped spread 
  the disease, which was diagnosed as a harsh form of 
  scurvy. Feverish and hallucinating, he was unable to 
  explain to Friar Roussel what had happened to him in 
  the cave, but was resigned that all natives had become 
  Christians. Friar Roussel determined that no one 
  approached the volcanic cave, believing it to be the 
  source of the disease. Father Eyraud died soon after 
  that, the last man to actually know something of the 
  true history of Rapa Nui. Or was he? The mystic native 
  managed to survive the doomed encounter and blended 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: GOTHIC EARTH PLACES 
  215 
  with the others of his kind. So far no minion of the Red 
  Death, living or otherwise, has found him or her. 
  This small island has a disturbing amount of 
  undead creatures. During the civil war, the last Long 
  Ears were eaten alive by their former Short Ears slaves 
  who, as a “reward” from the Enemy, were turned into 
  lacedons (aquatic ghouls). During the day, those foul 
  creatures lurk in the shallow waters offshore, coming to 
  land at night to attack the unwary. 
  The corrupted Long Ears shamans, who had been 
  buried with mundane honors but no proper spiritualist 
  rites, became first- and second-rank salt mummies 
  (similar to bog mummies), and now slumber in their 
  burial mounds, just waiting for intruders to come. Their 
  touch is venomous, infecting victims with scurvy, a 
  vitamin deficiency which is both lethal in a few weeks 
  and quite difficult to cure, as there are no citric fruit 
  trees in the island (the disease can be normally treated 
  in a long term with large amounts of food rich in 
  vitamin C). 
  Of the Tikkis, only a few actually hold the spirits 
  of the elders. Most of them are equivalent to geists, 
  unable to ever again communicate with their 
  descendants and teach them the old ways. Such is the 
  punishment the Red Death inflicted upon them. 
  However, Hotu-Motua and his contemporaneous 
  shamans and mystics, who had their souls bounds to the 
  first Tikkis, inside the volcanic mountain, are powerful 
  enough to affect the physical world. They are greater 
  geists and ghosts of variable magnitudes, all anchored 
  to their respective statues. Most of them are able to 
  communicate through images and sounds, similar to 
  first-level illusions, while the Founder can even speak 
  for brief periods, but only in his ancient, long-forgotten 
  local language. 
  Timeline for Gothic Easter 
  Island 
  650 (?): King Hotu-Motua arrives at Rapa Nui, coming 
  from Marae Renga (probably Polynesia). His scouts tell 
  him that the island is surrounded by windy walls and 
  miles of open sea. He is satisfied that the island is so 
  well isolated. The shamans and mystics start their plans 
  for the protective barrier. At that point, the island is full 
  of local animals and trees. 
  856: After 200 years perfecting their skills, the natives 
  are ready for what they consider their holy task. The 
  first stone giants are built. 
  650–1600 (?): More canoes come from Marae Renga in 
  small groups. At some point the Red Death succeeds in 
  sending servants to undermine the project from within. 
  1680: Possible starting point of the internal war that 
  will destroy the civilization. 
  1722: Admiral Roggeween arrives at Rapa Nui at Holy 
  Saturday and decides to name the island Easter Island 
  after the date. 
  1774: The Sook Expedition visits Easter Island. 
  1786: The Lapérouse Expedition visits Easter Island. 
  1816: The Kotzebue Expedition comes to Easter Island. 
  1837: The Dupetit-Thouars Expedition comes to Easter 
  Island. 
  1862: Slave ships come from Peru to Easter Island; 
  King Kamakoi, his court and the last mystics in the 
  island are arrested; about 1,000 slaves are sent to the 
  Peruvian mines. 
  1863: The surviving Easter slaves are freed and sent 
  back to the island. From the 100 survivors returned, 
  only 15 living arrive, carrying tuberculosis and 
  smallpox. The population is decimated, and only about 
  600 people are able to survive. 
  1864: Father Eugène Eyraud arrives at Easter Island. 
  Under his command, Friar Roussel and other priests 
  baptize all natives. The natural magic all but disappears 
  from Rapa Nui. The Red Death has won. 
  1868: Father Eyraud finds the truth but is reluctant to 
  accept it. Upon returning to the village at night, he is 
  contaminated with an unknown disease by an ancient 
  dead minion of the Red Death. Soon later he dies, 
  feverish and delirious, convinced and satisfied that all 
  natives are converted to Catholicism. 
  1899: The native population bottoms out at just over 
  100. 
  ! 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: GOTHIC EARTH PLACES 
  216 
  THE H.M.S. EREBUS 
  A Floating Tomb in a Frozen Graveyard—Based on a True story 
  By Luiz Eduardo Neves Peret 
  rakshasa2001@hotmail.com 
   
  INTRODUCTION 
  xcerpt from the witness report signed by 
  Sir John Lynch, to the Ministry of 
  Defense, on the strange facts registered by 
  Mr. James Silk, first mate on board the 
  Renovation, on September 30th, 1851: 
  “. . . After many days traveling north of the Arctic 
  Circle, on May 14th, at early morning, we watched in 
  awe as the enormous icebergs crossed our way under 
  the stormy sky, some of them larger than the whole 
  town of Limerick, whose cathedral would look humble 
  in comparison with such gigantic icy needles emerging 
  from the seawater. And our wonder was not over yet, 
  for amongst the gargantuan mountains of ice we saw 
  two ships, old war vessels trapped in the solid ice, one 
  of them several feet above sea level. The other, erected 
  only a few feet over the cold water, had its masts cut as 
  if by a gale, while the higher one was fairly preserved. 
  “As the iceberg was coming south from the Davis 
  passage, I immediately thought of Sir Franklin’s 
  expedition, lost six years ago. Had we found only one 
  ship, we might deem her to be an abandoned whaler, 
  but seeing both large vessels so close to each other, 
  there was no doubt that they were traveling together. 
  Curiously, although the captain had been immediately 
  informed of the strange event, he would not leave his 
  quarters until much later, as he claimed that he had felt 
  feverish all day. It was up to the first mate to take all 
  decisions . . .” 
  ! ! ! 
  “Coming dangerously nearer to the iceberg, by two 
  o’clock that afternoon our ship almost reached boarding 
  distance from the less-preserved vessel, the one that is 
  closer to the water, but the first mate thought better of it 
  and decided not to send anyone to the wrecked ship. 
  The name of the battered ship was clear enough to be 
  read under the fading twilight: H.M.S. Terror, 
  confirming our suspicions: most certainly the other ship 
  was the H.M.S. Erebus, Sir Franklin’s ship. 
  “The man on watch spotted lights on the ship we 
  thought should be the Erebus, but even then the first 
  mate refused to send anyone to investigate. The 
  crewmembers were whispering tales of haunted ships 
  and freezing death, but none would say such words 
  aloud. 
  “Suddenly, the captain started to act in an agitated 
  manner, shouting orders to everyone, wanting our ship 
  to circumnavigate the iceberg and preparing a boarding 
  party, not to the wrecked Terror, but straight to the 
  Erebus. Although the first mate strongly disagreed with 
  that order, the captain was adamant about it. In 
  addition, he would lead the party himself.” 
  ! ! ! 
  “After one hour of fruitless investigation, the 
  boarding party came back. They reported having seen 
  strange lights and hearing noises that reminded them of 
  steam engines and people walking, but no one, not even 
  a frozen corpse, was found. The captain was quite 
  excited, though, and upon returning on board he 
  immediately ordered a change in course, heading 
  further north, with the obvious intention of going 
  straight into the Davis passage. 
  “The first mate alerted the captain of the dangers in 
  such a course, and asked the captain about the report he 
  would have to make on the discovery of the two ships. 
  The captain almost shot him on the spot, dismissing the 
  warning as cowardice and saying he had better things to 
  do than to write reports on dead vessels. The man had a 
  strange spark in his eyes and a different tone in his 
  voice. At first we thought he might still be suffering 
  from the fever that had attacked him earlier, but there 
  seemed to be something more, and he did not look 
  feverish in the least. Obsessed, yes, but not feverish.” 
  ! ! ! 
  “The two ships were now just an uneasy memory 
  drowned in the freezing storms that we faced ahead, 
  and we still were going further north. On May 20th, the 
  icy blocks were growing too thick even for our metallic 
  E 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: GOTHIC EARTH THINGS 
  217 
  double-layered prow. Gigantic icebergs were all around 
  us, threatening to smash the Renovation with a single 
  move. Enormous waves and chilling winds were 
  battering the ship without mercy. Yet the captain 
  wanted to go even further north.” 
  ! ! ! 
  “Fearing for the captain’s mental health, the first 
  mate and other crewmembers overtook the deranged 
  man. Although he was an elder sailor, the captain 
  seemed possessed by a preternatural strength, as it took 
  five men to subdue him. He was finally arrested and 
  confined to his quarters, as the first mate ordered the 
  crew to put the ship on a course in the opposite 
  direction. I think the poor men had never before taken 
  an order with so much relief . . .” 
  ! ! ! 
  “As we approached the edges of the Arctic Circle, 
  the screams coming from the captain’s rooms that had 
  intensified over the course of the last few days finally 
  stopped. I thought the old seawolf had finally yielded to 
  the fever, but I was mistaken. When a sailor went there 
  to serve him his dinner, he attacked the man. Once 
  again, I must emphasize the fact that the captain should 
  be completely out of his mind, as he easily subdued a 
  strong man of half his age. Then he ran to the poop 
  deck and jumped into the freezing waters before anyone 
  could do anything. It was a shame for all of us, 
  experienced sailors, to let the captain do such a foolish 
  thing, but we all conceded it to the fever. Also, the 
  crewmen restarted the whispered talks about our 
  encounter with the two ships. But at least we were safe, 
  and had lost no more than one crewmember. For all he 
  did due to his final insanity, Captain Coward was a 
  good man, and I think his personal profile should not be 
  tainted by this event. I do recommend him for the 
  Medal of Merit, and submit this recommendation to the 
  wise judgment of Her Royal Majesty.” 
  Background 
  Life in the seas can be harsh, as isolation and death 
  always have a watchful eye on the unwary seafarer. 
  When the sea to be crossed is unknown and new 
  passages and safe ports are yet to be discovered, the 
  danger is tripled. Such was the life of the intrepid 
  explorers who were boldly trying to find northern 
  passages that would reduce travel time between the East 
  and West. A few expeditions were crowned by success 
  and glory, while most others only met horrible death, 
  either by disease, starvation, shipwreck, drowning or, in 
  that specific environment, freezing coldness. 
  One of these legendary expeditions was leaded by 
  Sir John Franklin, a British explorer who was obsessed 
  with the idea of crossing the seas from England to 
  Russia through the Arctic Circle, northwest of the 
  Canadian territory. He left the Thames on May 19th, 
  1845, at dawn, commanding the H.M.S. Erebus, a four-
  hundred-ton auxiliary war vessel, adapted by the Royal 
  Navy for expeditionary trips. Along with it went the 
  H.M.S. Terror, similar in size and power. Neither ship 
  had metallic layers to protect them from the ice, nor any 
  of the modern contraptions and gadgets so many other 
  British ships already had. The only improvements both 
  ships had received were a new steam-powered engine 
  for each, with the potency of 20 H.P. 
  Sir Franklin was not scared in the least by the lack 
  of modern equipment on board. He was an experienced 
  sailor, and had chosen his crew one by one, among the 
  bravest and most daring men he could find in the Navy. 
  They were a total of 128 intrepid men in both ships, and 
  since the old war times the two vessels had always 
  traveled so close to each other that most sailors thought 
  of them as only one ship. 
  On July 30th, the whaler Enterprise met the two 
  ships anchored together at Melville Bay, Greenland. 
  That was the last time any human being ever saw the 
  captain and crew alive. By December of 1846, the 
  Admiralty decided that too much time had passed since 
  the departure of that expedition and started a discreet 
  investigation, sending various rescue parties to the 
  Glacial Sea, but by 1857 nothing had been retrieved 
  from the icy waters. 
  Meanwhile, several captains were officially 
  reported as suffering from a strange fever and acting in 
  an obsessive manner, as if not in full command of their 
  thoughts. At the same time, first officers, navigators 
  and passengers on board different ships began to spread 
  tales of two ships trapped in a gigantic iceberg, floating 
  through the Glacial Sea as a moving tomb. All tales 
  would tell of a ship with the masts broken down and 
  another still in good shape, but taken away several feet 
  over the sea surface by the massive ice. A few ships 
  came close enough for the crews to be able to read the 
  name of the wrecked ship: “H.M.S. Terror.” 
  Lights would almost always be seen on the higher 
  ship. Also, in almost all cases the captain would 
  organize an exploring party, not to the Terror, but to the 
  other ship. After returning from the ship empty handed, 
  the seamen would tell stories of strange lights, noises 
  coming from inside the cabins, the smell of steam from 
  the engine and food in the kitchen—but no people, not 
  even corpses. And invariably, right after returning the 
  captain would sink into madness, changing course until 
  his ship was heading straight north. Those ships that 
  were able to return before being caught by the icebergs 
  or maelstroms would always report their missing 
  captains. 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: GOTHIC EARTH THINGS 
  218 
  The authorities of Great Britain, Germany, 
  Norway, France, Russia, United States and other 
  nations decided to remain silent about the case, fearing 
  the possible panic that might come. So any and all 
  reports, both official and informal, were banned from 
  the records, and the sailors were advised to stay quiet. 
  But in 1857 Lady Franklin equipped the explorer 
  vessel Fox with her own resources, sending the ship 
  after her lost husband. One year later, the Fox brought 
  grim news: they had found an abandoned boat from the 
  H.M.S. Terror, with a message inside a bottle. 
  “April 25th, 1848. H.M.S. Erebus and Terror 
  trapped in thick ice since September 12th, 1846. 
  The Terror suffered terrible losses in a gale. All 
  crew transported to the Erebus. By April 2nd, 
  when the iceberg holding our ship approached 
  land, a small part of the crew deserted under the 
  orders of Captain F.R.M. Crozer, but I know we 
  are cursed. Captain Franklin, although almost 
  frozen to death, still had the will to call us cowards 
  and say that no matter how far we go, we will 
  never leave the Arctic Circle. So far nine officers 
  and fifteen sailors have already died a cold death. 
  We will try to reach the Back Fish River tomorrow 
  by foot. The two ships went back north with the 
  iceberg . . .” 
  At the same time, the British newspaper Limerick 
  Chronicle published part of a witness report signed by 
  Sir John S. Lynch, a passenger on board the 
  Renovation, which departed from Limerick, Ireland, for 
  Quebec, Canada, in 1851, proving that the Navy had 
  known about the ships for a long time. Lady Franklin 
  desperately tried to find any crewmember of the 
  Renovation, and finally found Mr. James Silk, a veteran 
  sailor who confirmed Lynch’s words, saying that the 
  iceberg rose almost three hundred feet out of the water, 
  and the Erebus was lifted about half that height. 
  There was a scandal within the Royal Admiralty. 
  Admiral James M. Shore took upon himself the 
  responsibility of reopening the investigation. First mate 
  Simpson of the Renovation confirmed Sir John’s report. 
  Then a somber revelation surfaced: In 1854, under 
  secret orders from the Admiralty, Captain Robert 
  McLure tried to retrace the steps of the Franklin 
  expedition. At some point after having registered the 
  discovery of more than one thousand icebergs of 
  various sizes, he and his crew had to leave their three 
  ships behind and cover part of the way using sleighs to 
  cross the glaciers. 
  Near the place where the abandoned boat would be 
  found in 1858, they had discovered the remains of a 
  campsite with several bodies. Some had frozen to death, 
  although it was summer, and a few had been 
  decapitated. Their heads were missing. That was one 
  more of the pieces of information that the Admiralty 
  had decided to hide. 
  In the mid-1870s, the British fleet had completed a 
  total of forty different expeditions and had spent more 
  than twenty million sterling pounds without discovering 
  anything more than some whispered ghost tales and a 
  few dozen crazy captains apparently committing suicide 
  after trying to follow Franklin’s wake in search of the 
  northwestern passage. Her Royal Majesty stepped 
  forward and declared the case closed. Despite all 
  efforts, so far the passage has not been found. 
  The H.M.S. Erebus 
  4th Magnitude Corporeal Ghost Ship, Neutral Evil 
  Armor Class 
  0 
   
  Str  
  – (18/00) 
  Movement 
  Special Dex  
  – 
  Level/Hit Dice 
  11  
  Con  
  – 
  Hit Points 
  80  
  Int  
  14 
  THAC0 
  9 
   
  Wis  
  8 
  No. of Attacks 
  1 
   
  Cha  
  4 
  Damage/Attack 
  See below 
  Special Attacks 
  Create illusions, control 
  weather, curse, dominate 
  captains, telekinesis 
  Special Defenses 
  See below 
  Magic Resistance 
  40% 
  XP 
  10,000 (destruction) or 
  20,000 (for lifting the curse 
  and finding the northwestern 
  passage) 
  The H.M.S. Erebus is an old, large wooden war 
  vessel ready to carry a crew of approximately sixty 
  men. It had been retired from service after participating 
  in a few military campaigns along with its companion, 
  the H.M.S. Terror, when the Admiralty decided to 
  equip them both with new steam engines and give them 
  to Sir Franklin to find the northwestern passage. Most 
  sailors considers the H.M.S. Erebus and the H.M.S. 
  Terror to be twin sisters, as both ships were identical, 
  had been made in the same year, always went into 
  combat as a team and finally retired together. 
  Now, while the Terror lies torn and broken at its 
  side, and it has been pushed far away from the seawater 
  by eternal ice, the Erebus has been warped and 
  changed. Rather than becoming ghosts and haunts, as 
  has happened to many a man who met his doom in the 
  seas, Captain Franklin and his crew were all made one 
  with their beloved ship. As their bodies froze to death 
  and their strong will and obsession alone were leading 
  them, those men made a vow of finding together the 
  hidden passage north of the Davis passage, even if they 
  had to spend eternity searching. Even those who had 
  deserted under orders of Captain Crozer were included 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: GOTHIC EARTH THINGS 
  219 
  in the vow, cursed to die before ever reaching the 
  outskirts of the Artic Circle. 
  Current Sketch 
  The Erebus still floats on its frozen prison, trying to 
  find a way north. As the currents circulate throughout 
  the year, and the iceberg is pushed forward to the south, 
  but the power of the cursed oath prevents it from ever 
  leaving the Arctic Circle and entering warmer waters 
  where it would melt, ultimately releasing the two ships. 
  The icy island then is carried back by another current 
  and re-enters the frozen seas, meeting thousands of 
  other icebergs and the Greenland glaciers as they 
  slowly glide into the waters. 
  As the sentient ship somehow understands its 
  inability to reach the passage, it tries to make other 
  vessels do the job (see Combat). But so far the Erebus 
  has only managed to bring an early death to dozens of 
  captains, and sometimes to entire crews as their ships 
  are not prepared to face the extreme cold and polar 
  storms and to cross the iceberg-infested waters. Until 
  someone finds the northwestern passage (that is, if it 
  exists at all), chances are that the Erebus will keep 
  bringing doom to many other ships and crews. 
  Combat 
  The Erebus is not prepared for a full-scale combat, as 
  most of its weapons have been removed when it was 
  remodeled. It still keeps six cannons on its sides and 
  can fire one per round with its telekinesis ability, but as 
  the ship is not in its correct position, it may find it 
  difficult to aim at other ships. (Cannon damage can be 
  found in the Ships and the Sea accessory.) As for its 
  movement, the Erebus does not control the direction or 
  speed of the iceberg, dependent on the currents to push 
  it. The only exception is when the ship dominates a 
  captain: then the iceberg slowly turns to follow the ship 
  on its way north, but it floats so languidly that normally 
  the crew will not even notice the movement. It is 
  common for a ship to put one or two days of difference 
  between her and the cursed iceberg. 
  The Erebus usually resorts to subtler methods. It 
  can command the winds and waters in a ten-mile radius, 
  for about ten hours a day. Whenever a ship comes into 
  this radius, the ghost vessel uses its power to create a 
  storm that pulls the other ship nearer to it. Then it 
  makes a debilitating attack on the captain’s mind. This 
  attack only works on the ship’s captain, even if he is not 
  in charge at the occasion. The captain becomes feverish 
  unless a save vs. spells is made at a –2 penalty. 
  Once bedridden, the captain is subject to a 
  dominating attack as soon as the ship comes near to 
  boarding distance. A new saving throw vs. spell is 
  made at a –2 penalty to prevent the captain from being 
  dominated. If failed, the captain remains under the 
  ghost ship’s control for seven days. During this period 
  the captain’s Strength score rises to 18/00, as his 
  madness empowers him. In order to lure and confound 
  the crewmembers of the chosen ship, the Erebus is able 
  to create visual, audible and olfactory illusions that 
  imitate the activities of its original crew. 
  If the Erebus is unable to dominate the captain, it 
  will consider him a coward and the ship unusable. Then 
  it may either conjure a new storm to sink the ship or 
  curse the captain—but it prefers to leave the curse for 
  later. A dominated captain will do whatever is within 
  his power to board the Erebus. There he is secretly 
  bound by the same oath made by Sir Franklin and his 
  men, and feverishly pursues the passage. The iceberg 
  slowly follows the ship, a day or two behind it. 
  If prevented from going ahead, the captain is still 
  bound by the curse: if he comes within ten miles of the 
  edge of the Artic Circle, headed south, he starts to 
  painfully lose one hit point per day. When he reaches 
  the Circle region, the loss increases to one hit point per 
  hour. The maddening pain is too much for most men, 
  and they end up using their madness-enhanced strength 
  to escape from their own ships and jump into the 
  freezing sea, trying to swim to the north. Of course, 
  most of them die a just few moments after entering the 
  water. 
  In addition to its 40% magic resistance, the Erebus 
  is unaffected by cold-, water- and lightning-based 
  attacks, and enjoys all standard undead immunities. It 
  takes normal damage from normal fire-based attacks, 
  and 50% more damage from magical fire. If damaged, 
  it can rejuvenate for full hit points in one round, but 
  must stay completely immobile and is unable to use any 
  of its powers for 20 minutes. 
  When the rebel crewmembers tried to escape, the 
  Erebus was already developing the dominating powers 
  bolstered by the oath. Thus it ordered Captain Crozer to 
  keep the crew near the shore and kill the strongest 
  sailors, while the curse took care of all others. They 
  never reached the Arctic Circle. 
  The Erebus is literally anchored to the iceberg, and 
  the Terror is its greatest weakness: as they were built 
  together, the wrecked ship actually holds the karmic 
  resonance that gathered all spirits together. If she is 
  somehow destroyed, the Erebus will lose its grip on the 
  material world and its souls will be released. The 
  Terror has the same Armor Class as the Erebus, but 
  only has 40 hit points and cannot defend herself. 
  Also, should anyone (under the dominating 
  influence or not) find the northwestern passage and 
  report the information back to the other ships so that 
  they may turn it into an ordinary commercial route, the 
  curse will finally come to an end. But this, of course, 
  might take years . . . ! 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: GOTHIC EARTH THINGS 
  220 
  WANG-CHI 
  The Devil Dog of Gothic Chinatown 
  By Luiz Eduardo Neves Peret 
  rakshasa2001@hotmail.com 
   
  Thy battlefield shall not be known. 
  When it is not known, thy enemy must 
  scatter many sentinels, and as many of 
  those are in isolated and small places, 
  thou can easily attack them with 
  minimum effort. 
  —Sun Tzu 
  The Art of War 
  Introduction 
  y son, although I am unsure of how this 
  letter will reach you, or how you will accept 
  the truths in my words, I beg you, please, 
  read it until the end, for the survival of our 
  people may depend on the words of an old, dying man. 
  I have a tale to tell you, a tale about ancient fears and 
  secrets, and about truth and light. Please, read on and be 
  faithful . . . 
  A few months ago, a cargo ship arrived from the 
  Far East. As the Chinese-bannered ship slowly 
  approached the port of San Francisco about one hour 
  past sunset, everyone noticed something was terribly 
  wrong. All lights were off; no shouted orders to set the 
  ropes or lower anchors came from within the boat. The 
  authorities had to send people onto the ship to prevent it 
  from crashing into the deck. 
  Inside the silent vessel, horror and shock welcomed 
  the visitors. At every corner, spots of dried blood 
  tainted weapons, tools and ropes. Here and there, 
  remains of headless corpses piled up on the deck floor. 
  The workmen jumped back onto the harbor, screaming 
  and cursing in several languages. Men from every 
  nation can be found working at the port of San 
  Francisco, but that night everyone felt one and the same 
  thing: fear. 
  The local authorities placed the ship under 
  quarantine, for it looked as if madness had made the 
  crewmembers murder each other, and the missing heads 
  made the mystery even more disturbing. To them, the 
  most important thing was to avoid a scandal, but that 
  was easier said than done. Although no newspaper took 
  notice of that tragedy, sailors and gossip travel together 
  hand in hand, and soon everybody in town knew of the 
  ghost ship and its doomed cargo. 
  One man, a rich, corrupt man from our homeland, 
  called Mr. Tang, confronted the local authorities. That 
  renowned businessman was anxiously waiting to 
  receive some valuable shipment that was onboard. As 
  the harbor crew said later, he managed to set foot 
  onboard, entered the cargo compartment alone and, 
  when he came back later, smiling, he told the port 
  managers that his crate had not been damaged and that 
  there was nothing wrong with it, so he would take it 
  with him, no matter the price. When asked about the 
  goods inside, he simply said: “Family inheritance.” 
  Those were his last words spoken in perfect mental 
  health, it has been told later in gossip and whispers. 
  Less than one week later, deep in Chinatown, 
  scattered and quiet at the beginning, the murders began. 
  People whispered of a madman. Others talked of spirits 
  and demons. There was gossip about trusted friends and 
  relatives killing each other out of madness. When asked 
  about the murders, Mr. Tang’s words were quite 
  inconclusive. It seemed that his mind was rapidly 
  degenerating after so many years of active work with 
  the Chinese underworld. He retired a few days after the 
  arrival of his precious shipment, and no one did ever 
  know what happened to him. 
  That is, no one but myself. I know what happened 
  to poor, foolish Mr. Tang, and that is why I am writing 
  these words. The beast must be hunting me; it must 
  know that now, after a deep research into books and 
  texts full of what your modern teachers would call 
  meaningless superstition, I know its true name. 
  M 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: GOTHIC EARTH THINGS 
  221 
  Mr. Tang was murdered right after he entered the 
  ship, by the thing he thought was one of his servants 
  laying in the cargo compartments. The truth is, Mr. 
  Tang was smart when dealing with people and money, 
  but a fool when it came to the supernatural world. He 
  barely understood what he had ordered to be delivered 
  to him, and that was his last mistake. He had sent his 
  servants on a doomed expedition, to retrieve a creature 
  that probably (and hopefully) was the last remnant of an 
  ancient race, and they apparently succeeded. Not that 
  the monster was some stupid beast, no, quite on the 
  contrary. It seems to me that the creature wanted to be 
  captured; it wanted to come into this foreign and more 
  advanced land, where the old ways are viewed as 
  superstition. 
  The cunning of this beast is terrifying, and it 
  cannot be underestimated. Thanks to Tang’s money and 
  influence, it easily arranged for more prey. But I know 
  the old ways; I have kept the ancient prayers and tales 
  alive in my memories. I noticed that something was 
  wrong from the beginning. After a long search in the 
  old texts, I was able to find legends about its race, about 
  their plans to take over our lands and how to stop them, 
  how the old ones killed them. 
  Now it is time to reveal it to you. This damned 
  race’s name is Wang-Chi. They look like large, black 
  infernal dogs, but they almost always will be seen in 
  human shape, and with that disguise they will walk 
  among us. Now, what really surprised me is it that, in 
  the past, the Wang-Chi would keep to itself in the 
  forests, stalking lone travelers and wild dogs. But the 
  ancient texts speak of a time when these monsters 
  suddenly became murderous, advancing into our cities, 
  infiltrating the old families of our social underworld, 
  seeking those who would enslave them to find out 
  about their longevity and powers, and killing them 
  mercilessly, then taking their looks and positions for a 
  time. 
  The nature of our society helps their infiltration. 
  Our silence and secrecy over murders and 
  disappearances in the criminal network of our world 
  only adds to the creature’s mischievous plans. Like 
  crime itself, they can only be defeated by the light of 
  truth and justice. Before killing the monster, one must 
  find its true name in the ancient texts. Names have 
  power, you know. The pure, golden light of truth, bright 
  as the sun, is the best way to raze its masquerade and 
  put an end to its wretched existence. Lies walk fast in 
  the dark, but they do not go far in the light. 
  I have found that the Wang-Chi has disguised itself 
  as a respectable member of Chinatown’s council of 
  elders (who is also the leader of a local gang). As the 
  council will hold a public meeting tomorrow afternoon, 
  I will go there and, during the session, I will shout the 
  beast’s name aloud. I fear not the legendary curses the 
  Wang-Chi is believed to throw at its attackers. The 
  modern times are not for me any longer. I do not intend 
  to survive for long, just enough to kill this creature. But 
  you must be prepared, for I do not know if this creature 
  can breed either with men or dogs. 
  If, by any chance, I die or disappear and this letter 
  comes to your hands, know this: the Wang-Chi comes 
  from our haunted past and intends to take over our 
  future. Just in case you have to complete my mission, 
  be warned that the creature’s true name is . . .” 
  (From the remains of a partially burned letter 
  found beside a beheaded corpse in a ruined, burned 
  house in Chinatown). 
  Wang-Chi 
  (Doppleganger Hound) 
  Climate/Terrain 
  Any land 
  Frequency 
  Very rare 
  Organization 
  Solitary 
  Activity cycle 
  Night (see below) 
  Diet 
  Carnivore 
  Intelligence 
  High (13–14) 
  Treasure 
  R or equivalent 
  Alignment 
  Chaotic Evil 
  No. Appearing 
  1 
  Armor Class 
  4 
  Movement 
  15 
  Hit Dice 
  4+3 
  THAC0 
  17 
  No. of Attacks 
  1 
  Damage/Attack 
  2d4 
  Special Attacks 
  Silence aura, disease, curse. 
  Special Defenses 
  Hide in shadows, shape 
  shifting, gold or +1 weapon to 
  hit, cannot be truly destroyed 
  while disguised. 
  Special Vulnerabilities 
  True name, sunlight. 
  Magic Resistance 
  See below 
  Size 
  M (5’–7’) 
  Morale 
  Elite (13–14) 
  XP Value 
  2,000 
  Contrary to Chinese folktales, the Wang-Chi is not 
  a true demon, but is actually a supernatural creature 
  from the Far Eastern fauna. In the distant past they 
  could be encountered with certain regularity near small 
  towns from India to China and Russia, always preying 
  on the unwary traveler or farmer. They were dangerous 
  predators then, but no more evil than a crocodile. Then, 
  with the coming of the Red Death to the East, the 
  creatures developed hunger for more power and the 
  expansion of their hunting grounds, so they began to 
  infiltrate Chinese society through its criminal world. 
  Centuries ago, though, wise men found ways to stop 
  their cunning attacks and the monsters were almost 
  drive extinct, despite their powers and the capacity to 
  live for hundreds of years. Hidden deep in the forests, 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: GOTHIC EARTH THINGS 
  222 
  the Wang-Chi became object of legends, until men all 
  but forgot their existence. 
  These creatures, believed by many to be nearly 
  immortal, used to prey upon mankind as naturally as a 
  tiger would prey on deer. Now, they must rely on their 
  wits in order to operate in such a low profile that they 
  will not rouse any unwanted attention. The lack of 
  respect for tradition and disbelief in magic and legend 
  has helped the race grow a little through the centuries, 
  but the Far East is still very rooted in old beliefs, so at 
  least one Wang-Chi decided to move to faraway urban 
  areas, where it could hunt without the problems its race 
  still faces in China and India. That is how one of them 
  ended up in San Francisco, arriving onboard a cargo 
  shipment. 
  Even among modern men, there are those who 
  dream of controlling legendary enchanted creatures like 
  the Wang-Chi, and using them to achieve their own 
  selfish goals. But no one can dominate the Wang-Chi, 
  and woe to the fool who thinks otherwise! Even then, 
  there are some who believe such creatures to be 
  emissaries of the Ancient Gods, and that, if appeased, 
  they can bring fortune and longevity. Mr. Tang was one 
  such individual, fascinated with the legend of the long-
  lived Wang-Chi and convinced that it might teach him 
  how to achieve near-eternal life. His dream was cut 
  short when he faced the monster. Now the creature 
  roams about Chinatown, preparing itself to find a 
  proper mate. 
  In its true form, the Wang-Chi looks like a large 
  black hound that seems to be made more of living 
  darkness than of flesh. It is fully corporeal, however, 
  and should not be mistaken for a common shadow. Its 
  mouth constantly drips diseased blue foaming saliva 
  and its eyes glow with orange light. In animal form it 
  cannot speak, but in human guise it can speak any 
  language it has learned (see below). 
  Combat 
  The Wang-Chi has a primary bite attack with its jagged 
  fangs, which inflicts 2d4 points of damage and exposes 
  the opponent to the effects of the creature’s diseased 
  saliva. Anyone bitten must save vs. poison or become 
  infected with a disease that robs the victim of one point 
  of Strength per day until cured. Victims without 
  Strength scores have cumulative –1 penalties to attack 
  and damage every day. At 0 Strength the victim dies. 
  The effects of multiple bites are cumulative. 
  Twice per day the creature can surround itself with 
  an aura of magical silence, which extends to ten feet in 
  all directions. The aura lasts for three turns, and can be 
  normally dispelled. The Wang-Chi must wait for at 
  least a full turn before it can summon the aura the 
  second time. The creature is also skilled at hiding in 
  shadows, with 90% chance of success (50% if exposed 
  to any light source brighter than a torch or light spell). 
  It is also immune to sleep and charm spells, and makes 
  all saving throws as an 8th-level soldier. 
  The Wang-Chi’s most treacherous ability, 
  however, is the power to imitate one of its past victims, 
  either human or canine. The highly intelligent Wang-
  Chi can learn up to three human languages after about 
  one to three months of careful listening, and usually it 
  keeps taking victims who speak the same language for a 
  while before trying another. It can change its shape in a 
  fashion like that of a Ravenloft doppelganger, but is 
  limited to imitating any victim killed in the past thirty 
  days. The transformation takes only a single round to 
  complete, and the new likeness is nearly flawless. This 
  masquerade can last for up to another thirty days, and 
  within this period the Wang-Chi can change its shape to 
  look like other victims, although that weakens its 
  mimicry. 
  Instead of having the ESP of its humanoid cousin, 
  the Wang-Chi has another insidious ability. When it 
  kills a victim and eats the head, it absorbs part of the 
  victim’s memories, in order to help it simulate his or 
  her general manners. Proficiencies, roguish skills and 
  spellcasting cannot be learned through such methods, 
  however, so it prefers to take victims who are not 
  specialized in any craft, except perhaps giving orders to 
  other people. The Wang-Chi must kill and eat the head 
  in order to effectively gain access to the victim’s 
  memories. Comatose or otherwise living victims are of 
  no use regarding this aspect. Heads from victims dead 
  for more than one hour are also useless. 
  The drained memories erode rapidly, making the 
  false person look senile or slightly absent-minded. As 
  the days pass, the person becomes increasingly 
  incoherent and gibbering. At the end of thirty days, the 
  stolen memories collapse altogether. By that time, 
  however, the Wang-Chi will most likely have changed 
  shape again. Every time the creature chooses to change 
  between human shapes, the change accelerates the 
  memory-losing process by one day, so the monster 
  prefers to stay in the same disguise for as long as it can. 
  Changing between human and animal form does not 
  affect stolen memories. When changing to another 
  dog’s shape (also a past victim), the Wang-Chi does not 
  gain any memories, and uses this disguise only as a last 
  resort, because it definitely prefers to stay among 
  mankind as an equal, seeing dogs as little more than 
  dumb cousins and second-rate food sources. 
  In either shape, only golden or magical weapons 
  can hit the creature. If attacked while in human 
  disguise, it can activate its Silence aura and try to use 
  any weapon at hand. Usually the chosen disguise will 
  be that of a wealthy and influent person, so heroes will 
  most probably have to deal with bodyguards, relatives, 
  minions and servants before they ever reach the 
  monster. The Wang-Chi will avoid changing shape in 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: GOTHIC EARTH THINGS 
  223 
  public until it is no longer possible. If reduced to 0 hit 
  points while disguised, the Wang-Chi’s true nature 
  becomes clear: it immediately changes back to its 
  shadowy ture form, healing 2d4x10% of all suffered 
  damage. This regenerative change can happen only 
  once per day. Unlike most shapeshifters, the Wang-Chi 
  can change forms while moving (at half rate), but it 
  cannot attack while transforming. 
  When the Wang-Chi reverts to its true form, the 
  change prompts a fear check to anyone witnessing the 
  transformation for the first time. For those who are 
  familiar with the shape previously chosen by the 
  monster, the sight of a friendly grin changing to a 
  hideous canine snarl may prompt a horror or even a 
  madness check. 
  Only after the Wang-Chi has assumed its true form 
  it can be destroyed, either by impalement or beheading 
  by a weapon of +1 or better enchantment or a weapon 
  made of pure gold. Even if beheaded or impaled under 
  disguise, the creature reforms—in this case it must 
  immediately change shape. Direct sunlight harms it 
  violently, inflicting 1d6 points of damage per round, but 
  only if the Wang-Chi is in its true form when exposed. 
  The Wang-Chi knows better than to take chances, 
  though, and avoids sunlight as much as it can. When 
  under direct or clearly reflected sunlight the Wang-Chi 
  cannot change shape (unless reduced to 0 hp), nor can it 
  use its Silence aura. The Wang-Chi can use both of 
  these powers normally during the daylight hours; they 
  just need to avoid sunlight to succeed. 
  If the creature’s true name can be somehow found 
  and spoken aloud in its presence, the creature must 
  immediately change to its true shape and cannot take 
  another form for one full hour. It will try at any cost to 
  prevent anyone from learning its true name, or from 
  saying it aloud. Perhaps that is the reason for the 
  Silence power. The beast’s true name can be discovered 
  either through investigation, psionic or magical means. 
  Sometimes, a dying Wang-Chi can focus all its 
  hatred and malice against its attacker and cast a 
  powerful curse. This is not a common occurance, but if 
  the creature is allowed time (at least one full round) to 
  concentrate before the final blow is delivered, the one 
  who landed it must save vs. spell or be subject to a 
  curse as described in Domains of Dread. The DM 
  should judge the type and severity of the curse. The 
  Wang-Chi cannot concentrate properly if it receives 
  continuous attacks until it dies, but a single round is 
  enough to cast the dying spell. The creature will then 
  growl the curse in an audible but barely intelligible 
  phrase just before it dies. It might say it in one of the 
  tongues it has learned, but usually it will choose that 
  which it has been more accustomed to (normally an 
  Eastern language). Trying to understand the words and 
  their meaning in order to lift the curse might offer the 
  DM very interesting side plots, perhaps leading the 
  adventurers to their next mission. 
  Habitat/Society 
  Wang-Chi are mostly solitary creatures, especially now 
  that they have nearly been driven extinct. They are also 
  very territorial and one Wang-Chi might even help 
  heroes find another, just to get rid of it and accumulate 
  its territory. These creatures are quite bold and certain 
  of their superiority over mankind, and that might be 
  their main weakness. While a Wang-Chi will not 
  endanger its master plan because of foolish 
  presumption, whenever it finds worthwhile antagonists, 
  it might take a few risks and even leave some clues 
  behind, just to prove its superior intellect. 
  Wang-Chi prefer to dwell in the outskirts of human 
  society, usually taking the place of guild leaders or 
  black market dealers—people that might easily end up 
  dead or disappear without compromising its disguise 
  very much. Although originally coming from a Far 
  Eastern land, it can adapt to almost any urban area. The 
  creature can easily appear on Gothic Earth (particularly 
  any large city’s Chinatown), Ravenloft (Rokushima 
  Táiyoo or, if the DM allows seafaring trade, virtually 
  any coastal domain) or any other campaign setting, 
  preferably one with some contact with exotic oriental 
  cultures. 
  Ecology 
  The Wang-Chi are exclusively carnivorous, seeing 
  human (or humanoid) flesh as their favorite meals, or 
  canine flesh as an inferior food source. Their favorite 
  body parts are the head and brain. While a Wang-Chi 
  may live for approximately 100–400 years, it can only 
  reproduce once every ten years, and then only with a 
  suitable human female. From such a union one Wang-
  Chi is born in animal form, always at night. The female 
  must be held fast while pregnant, for the metabolic 
  changes are too strong and painful for her. The 
  gestation lasts only six months, and the mother suffers 
  an agonizing death in the end, as the Wang-Chi literally 
  eats its way out of the womb. Once free, the monster 
  usually devours the remains of her corpse and hides. 
  The infant Wang-Chi can defend itself with a bite 
  that inflict 1d4 poins of damage. By the end of the first 
  year the creature’s saliva will be diseased. Its 
  shapeshifting and silence powers come with maturity in 
  three years, and until that time it looks like a black 
  hound. But since the first kill the monster is already 
  able to get a glimpse of the victim’s memories—
  usually, the first memory will be the image of its father, 
  as seen by its mother. Its father may take a base care of 
  it during these first years, but will send it away as soon 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: GOTHIC EARTH THINGS 
  224 
  as it has developed its shapechanging powers. If father 
  and son do ever meet each other again later, it will most 
  probably be as hated enemies and rivals. 
  Adventure Ideas 
  # The heroes are visiting a friend or ally in 
  Chinatown (or any other reclusive, foreign 
  neighborhood) and come in contact with a series of 
  strange and gruesome murders among local 
  criminals. The local guilds blame each other or a 
  new faction. The heroes may be hired by a local 
  crime boss, perhaps under disguise, to investigate. 
  At some point, though, their employer will be 
  replaced by the Wang-Chi, which will then 
  confound them with false clues. 
  # By the same token, a disguised Wang-Chi might 
  hire the services of the heroes to get rid of another, 
  perhaps its own father or son. 
  # A friend or ally of the heroes might have been 
  cursed by a dying Wang-Chi, and that might lead 
  them to an intricate plot while they research for a 
  solution. 
  # The Wang-Chi might replace a person who knows 
  an important secret, and the PCs must find ways to 
  make the creature reveal it before its memory 
  collapses. 
  ! 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: GOTHIC EARTH THINGS 
  225 
  MORTICIAN 
  A Grave Tradesman Kit for Masque of the Red Death 
  By Eldred Black 
  eldredblack@eldredblack.com 
   
  Mortician 
  Class:  
   
   
   
   
  Tradesman 
  Ability Req:  
   
   
   
  Intelligence 13 
  Prime Req:  
   
   
   
  Dexterity 
  Hit Die:  
   
   
   
   
  d6 
  Attack as:  
   
   
   
  Tradesman 
  Save as:  
   
   
   
   
  Tradesman 
  Advance as:  
   
   
   
  Tradesman 
  Exc Strength? 
   
   
   
  No 
  Spell Ability? 
   
   
   
  No 
  Exc Constitution? 
   
   
  No 
  Starting Cash:  
   
   
  2d4 
  Proficiencies 
  Weapon Slots:  
   
   
  3 
  Additional Slot:  
   
   
  4 
  Nonproficiency Penalty:  
  –3 
  Nonweapon Slots: 
   
   
  6 
  Additional Slot:  
   
   
  3 
  Available Categories: 
   
  General, 
  Educational, Arcane 
  Bonus Proficiencies:  
   
  Corpse 
  Preparation/Embalming (New, see below) 
  Recommended Prof:  
   
  Medicine, 
  Chemistry, Biology, Etiquette 
  Description 
  The mortician, while sharing some of the same 
  knowledge and training as the physician, comes into 
  contact with a unique element that makes his profession 
  quite exceptional. As a person who deals with corpses 
  and cadavers to make his living, he often encounters 
  and experiences things the average citizen of Gothic 
  Earth does not. More than one mortician has left a 
  cadaver on the embalming table, only to return and find 
  it missing, with no evidence that anyone else has been 
  in or out of the room. As well, a few morticians have 
  had the unpleasant, and sometimes extremely 
  dangerous, experience of beginning to embalm a 
  corpse, only to have the subject somehow become 
  reanimated, and return from the dead. Of course, this 
  type of experience (if survived) often leads to a change 
  of profession, but occasionally it leads to a curiosity 
  about what sort of dark arts could bring about such 
  enigmatic occurrences, and thus the mortician may pick 
  from the Arcane category when choosing nonweapon 
  proficiencies. 
  Role-Playing 
  The mortician is usually a somber, solitary person. He 
  spends his days almost exclusively surrounded by cold, 
  dead corpses in various stages of decomposition. It is 
  his gruesome task to try and make these empty 
  carcasses once again resemble the living beings that had 
  once inhabited them. The few living persons with 
  whom he does have contact are usually the grieving 
  family and friends of the deceased, whom he is required 
  to try and console as best he can. While occasionally 
  this can make the character cynical and distant, his 
  quiet and reserved manner can be a mere facade, 
  masking a deep longing for real relationships and true 
  human contact. Often, he has few friends, and little 
  status in the community, because of his morbid 
  profession. Sometimes, he is haunted by the things he 
  has seen: the strange claw-like wounds on the bodies of 
  innocent young children; the small twin incisions over 
  the jugular at the base of the neck of beautiful 
  socialites, whose graves are found desecrated only days 
  later, seemingly torn apart from the inside out; the 
  bodies of stout, healthy men who have apparently been 
  frightened to death, their mouths wrought open in a 
  perpetual scream of terror. 
  The mysteries of these horrible images often lead 
  the character from the relative safety of his silent 
  mortuary out into the dark of night, searching for 
  something he can not yet put a name to: the Red Death. 
  Special Benefits 
  One of the main benefits of the mortician is his 
  knowledge of human biology and physiology. Having 
  seen many different kinds of wounds and forms of 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: GOTHIC EARTH PC RULES 
  226 
  death, he can often identify the cause of death when 
  that cause is not readily apparent to the untrained eye. 
  Additionally, even though he is not a licensed 
  physician, he has some skill in tending to wounds and 
  mending injuries. After all, sewing up scrapes and 
  lacerations on living skin is not so different from 
  stitching the rent flesh of dead corpses. 
  Lastly, the mortician’s daily exposure to death and 
  decay grants a +1 bonus to his horror checks. 
  Special Hindrances 
  The mortician has seen too much death to have any real 
  charisma, and he has difficulty befriending others or 
  fitting in with a group. To reflect this, the character’s 
  Charisma score is automatically lowered by –2. 
  Additionally, other characters will tend to feel a bit of 
  unease about him, once they learn of his profession, and 
  as such, a certain skepticism or mistrust in his 
  suggestions and ideas can easily develop. The Etiquette 
  proficiency can often help the mortician lessen these 
  negative trappings of his profession, but it will never let 
  him overcome them completely. 
  Forbidden Lore 
  Some morticians do not become benevolently curious 
  about the dark arts implicated by the strange 
  occurrences they may have encountered—they become 
  malevolently excited. Sometimes a mortician may peer 
  into the cold eyes of a recently murdered corpse, 
  butchered gruesomely by some madman, only to find 
  the Red Death staring back at him. And sometimes, a 
  mortician may seek to try to find a way to rekindle the 
  fire of life in those dead eyes, leading to experimenta-
  tion with the undead. 
  New Proficiency 
  Corpse Preparation/Embalming: This proficiency is 
  available only to the mortician profession, or those who 
  have worked in a mortuary. It enables the proficient 
  character to tend to a recently deceased body, preparing 
  it for viewing at a wake, and embalming it for burial. 
  Occasionally, mangled limbs must be severed and 
  reattached, or large wounds sutured to preserve the 
  shape of a torn body. The embalming process is an 
  ancient one, practiced since the time of the Egyptian 
  Pharaohs, but it has been modernized over the 
  centuries, and requires some tools and equipment 
  unique to a mortuary. However, a suitable Mortician’s 
  Kit might contain a small bone saw, a few spools of silk 
  thread, several large suturing needles, cosmetic rouge 
  and blush, and perhaps a vial of perfume. Several other 
  specialized tools might be included, such as a rib-
  spreader, to facilitate organ removal prior to 
  embalming. 
  ! 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: GOTHIC EARTH PC RULES 
  227 
  October 31st, 1938. 
  Los Angeles. 
  !"#$!"#$!"#$!"#$!"#$!"#$!"#$!"#$ 
  [Keep your eyes peeled!] 
  ! 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: CREDITS 
  228 
  CHRISTOPHER ADAMS 
  Father Guran 
  # 
  mhacdebhandia@yahoo.com 
  DANIEL BANDERA 
  Danylo Denisovich Známia 
  Caracas ! Bogotá 
  I would like to thank the Kargatane for letting me be 
  “in” one of their netbooks.  I dedicate this article to 
  those fans of the MASQUE OF THE RED DEATH who have 
  kept the setting alive. 
  daniel.j.bandera@us.pwcglobal.com 
  JOE BARDALES 
  Kargatane 
  As the oldest member of the Kargatane [Editor’s note: 
  he ain’t kidding], Joe would like to dedicate this year’s 
  netbook to his fellow old fogeys, the old time gamers 
  who just can’t put the polyhedron dice away for good. 
  Here’s to the fun we had with First Edition AD&D, and 
  to many more years of the same as we enter this 
  wonderful new age of 3E. That is if we can force 
  ourselves to stay awake that late anymore . . . 
  joe@kargatane.com 
  ELDRED BLACK 
  Mortician Kit 
  We tried to get a dedication paragraph from Mr. Black, 
  but sadly, a clerical error made it quite impossible to 
  locate him. You know, if they would just label bodies 
  with facial branding instead of those flimsy toe tags, 
  this sort of mistake would never happen. 
  eldredblack@eldredblack.com 
  TIMOTHY S. BRANNAN 
  Witch Ritual Tools 
  Last Halloween I was not thinking of the release of the 
  Kargatane’s The Book of Secrets, or my own netbook, 
  The Complete Netbook of Witches and Warlocks, or 
  even Halloween itself. No, last Halloween I brought 
  home my firstborn son! Liam Weston Brannan was the 
  best Halloween present I could have ever bought myself 
  (yes, I am in the habit of getting presents for 
  Halloween!). Currently I have a Ph.D. in Educational 
  Psychology and I am doing what every other new Ph.D. 
  in the country is doing now: looking for a job! When 
  not doing this, I am writing material for my two other 
  RPG projects, The Other Side and ShadowEarth, which 
  I still write on my 486 Gateway2000 computer. My 
  lovely wife, son and I live in the suburbs of Chicago in 
  small brick house with a white picket fence. Basically I 
  am just a minivan away from being a cliché. 
  Now that is horror! 
  tbrannan@usa.net 
  ANDREW CERMAK 
  Sir William Canifax 
  Marcel Vendark 
  Kargatane 
  What a difference a year makes! Sitting on the other 
  side of the glass, I had the barest inkling of the amount 
  of work and thought that goes into these netbooks. Now 
  that I know the truth, I’m starting to understand why 
  they made me sign that contract in blood when I first 
  joined up. 
  Sir William Canifax was a character I had intended to 
  include in last year’s netbook, but time got the better of 
  me. I’m quite pleased to be able to present him this time 
  around. As for Marcel Vendark . . . well, the less said 
  the better, I think. I’m sure we’ll be seeing more of him 
  in the future. I’d like to dedicate both articles to my 
  fellow Kargatane, for taking a chance on an unknown 
  kid, and all that rot. 
  cermak@kargatane.com 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: CREDITS 
  229 
  JAMES “THE MADMAN” 
  DALTON 
  The Order of Twilight 
  Of the fifteen years I’ve spent on this floating rock, 
  only two and a half of them have been filled with the 
  joy of Ravenloft. In fact if it weren’t for my buying 
  Domains of Dread on a whim (and then later learning I 
  needed to buy other products to play AD&D), you 
  would not be reading this now. Since then I’ve played 
  ALTERNITY, WFRP, VAMPIRE: THE MASQUERADE and a 
  heap of homebrews. Apart from roleplaying my 
  interests are writing (I have some short stories at my 
  webpage: http://www.geocities.com/Fat_Jimmy_D), 
  reading, debating, karate, the occult and movies. Before 
  I go, I must give thanks to my gaming group for being 
  the unsuspecting guinea pigs that I sent up against the 
  Order of Twilight. ☺ 
  reagulf@hotmail.com 
  http://www.geocities.com/Fat_Jimmy_D 
  ERIC DANIEL 
  Umbran the Shadow Lich 
  # 
  # 
  LUIS FERNANDO DE PIPPO 
  New Creatures for Nosos 
  Sir Andrew Sinclair 
  “New Creatures for Nosos” is dedicated to the members 
  of the Ravenloft Mailing List who helped tweak the 
  monsters to fit Nosos. 
  zoren55@yahoo.com 
  DION FERNANDEZ 
  Gothic Manila ! The Katipunan 
  Dion doesn’t even live in Manila—thank Heavens. He 
  lives further up north in Baguio, a city that’s too ideal 
  to be Gothic (it could probably work in a Faerie setting, 
  say, Sylvan Earth). He’s currently finishing his degree 
  in English, so he could get out of the country and go on 
  an Asian tour. 
  Dion wants to thank Tina Cenzon, Fred Tello, Julie 
  Noble, Dale Mendoza and Anton Broas. He also gives 
  special consideration to his wizard, who claimed that if 
  ever vampires entered Manila, they’d die of 
  asphyxiation—smog here smells like garlic. 
  To all Philippine history purists, Dion apologizes for 
  making the Katipunan members a bit younger than they 
  actually were. 
  avignon@thedoghousemail.com 
  ROBERT A. GOMBACH 
  Spitting Cobra 
  To my beautiful wife, Ann-Michelle, for all her love 
  and understanding. For all the times she has had to put 
  up with spitting cobras, demonic toy makers, and 
  vampire darklords. 
  robagom@cc.usu.edu 
  FREIDRICH GOTHE 
  Dr. Henry Wollcote 
  The Interpretation of Dreams 
  I would like to dedicate the article “Dr. Henry 
  Wollcote” to a great friend of mine, Paul Boudreaux. 
  Without him, I never could have completed it. 
  fgothe@hotmail.com 
  MARK “MORTAVIUS” 
  GRAYDON 
  Elemental Corruption 
  I’d like to dedicate my work this year to all the 
  Ravenloft fans who have contributed to the setting, 
  either by submission, conversation, or simply just 
  getting together for a creep-fest on some late lonely 
  Sunday night game. With all of us together, this world 
  will never die. 
  Mortavius@cnx.net 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: CREDITS 
  230 
  ANDREW HACKARD 
  Even More Fun & Games 
  Kargatane 
  I wrote “Even More Fun & Games” to thank all the 
  people who have enjoyed the first two articles, and to 
  placate the ones who berated me for not including a 
  games article last year. Hope this was worth the wait, 
  y’all. I dedicate the article to all of you, and to the 
  Eleventh Floor Pasteboard Society: 
  “Requirimus Quartum!” 
  andrew@kargatane.com 
  JALEIGH JOHNSON 
  Shadows of Blue and Gray 
  As a DM who is always on the lookout for Masque of 
  the Red Death material, I hope my article proves useful 
  to others. This one’s for Jeff, for fearlessly editing my 
  writing . . . your Civil War material was also greatly 
  appreciated. Credit for inspiration goes to the youngest 
  player in my campaign. Melissa and Samuel are for 
  you, Sara. And, as always, many thanks to the 
  Kargatane for all their hard work and effort. 
  jaleigh@atwood-il.com 
  http://www.angelfire.com/or/OnyxV/index.html 
  STEFAN MAC 
  Eduard Duvoir 
  I would like to extend thanks first of all to the people on 
  the Ravenloft mailing list for their help on this article, 
  specifically Arijani the Rakshasa and Ian Mathers. 
  Secondly, I would like to extend my deepest gratitude 
  to the Kargatane, not only for accepting my work, but 
  for having this site and compiling these netbooks in the 
  first place. That being said, on with the countdown . . . 
  mac_costilow@hotmail.com 
  JOHN W. MANGRUM 
  Framing Fiction 
  Fear and Loathing in Third Edition 
  Kargatane 
  You know the saying about living in interesting times? 
  Boy, we sure do. Let’s see if next year’s netbook will 
  be less . . . eventful. 
  iggy@kargatane.com 
  ARI & GEORGE MARMELL 
  Vultharesk 
  # 
  mouseferatu@aol.com 
  MICHAEL MASSEY 
  Wereglutton 
  “Anger can be an expensive luxury” —Italian Proverb. 
  I think it kind of defines the animal. 
  shadowangel@prodigy.com 
  HUGO VIEGAS 
  NASCIMENTO 
  Owlmay ! Rapa Nui 
  Dame Alice Kyteler 
  As a child I had the unique opportunity of caring for a 
  baby owl that I found alone and starving in a backyard 
  hollow tree. In a short while I grew to love it as a true 
  friend. From that very moment, the owl symbolized 
  more than wisdom for me, it also meant a trustful 
  friend, albeit a dark and predatory one. That is what I 
  intended to do with the Owlmay, making her different 
  from both the regular Swanmay and the Ravenloft 
  Were-Owl. I hope you all feel the same and enjoy 
  playing with her. 
  shadowspawn_the_dragon@hotmail.com 
  RYAN NAYLOR 
  The Tale of the Lady of the Lake 
  Mictlan 
  I have been playing DUNGEONS & DRAGONS for nearly 
  five years with the same group of people. More than 
  anyone, they deserve more credit than they get for 
  putting up with convoluted plots, manipulative NPCs 
  and somehow managing to alienate every darklord they 
  come across. Remember: whenever you kiss anyone, 
  they are bound to be a demon, a vampire or a red 
  widow. I also need to thank my parents for instilling in 
  me enough arrogance to shamelessly rip off whatever 
  historical figures I feel like. Finally, I would like to 
  thank the rest of the world for showing me the 
  Olympics. Truly scary. 
  Schadenfreude13@hotmail.com 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: CREDITS 
  231 
  LUIZ EDUARDO NEVES 
  PERET 
  Tsuu-Y-Teke 
  The Mask of Sorrowful Beauty 
  The H.M.S. Erebus ! Wang-Chi 
  Tsuu-Y-Teke was based on “true legends”, so to speak. 
  The tale of the vulture that steals the sky light because 
  of its selfishness is well-known among Brazilian 
  natives. The Land without Night is a common tale in 
  some North American tribes. With Tsuu-Y-Teke I 
  wanted to portray a small portion of native American 
  culture, in the same year Brazil commemorates 500 
  years since the first arrival of the Portuguese to our 
  lands (although I guess the natives have little reason to 
  commemorate). I would like to thank my father, the 
  anthropologist and botanic scientist João Americo 
  Peret, whose more-than-50-year work with Brazilian 
  natives and unending love for our culture were the basis 
  for this article. 
  I would like to dedicate the “H.M.S. Erebus” to my 
  dear uncle, Richard “Joe” Balboni, the first merchant 
  sailor who told me that ghost story, which for years I 
  had taken for just another tall tale told by elder seamen. 
  That is, until the mid-70’s, when I read an article at a 
  scientific magazine telling the very same tale and 
  presenting official documents to prove it. I was so 
  startled that I immediately thought of writing a short 
  story about that. I just hope the ghost iceberg and the 
  two ships have already set their course to true peace . . . 
  rakshasa2001@hotmail.com 
  DUSTIN “GRIGG 
  DEADBREAKER” RATHBUN 
  The Society of Huntsmen 
  Hive Skeleton 
  Many thanks to my family and friends for the support, 
  and the Kargatane for keeping Ravenloft alive. See you 
  all in the Mists. 
  “Come, drink the mystic wine of Night, 
  Brimming with silence and the stars; 
  While earth, bathed in this holy light, 
  Is seen without its scars.” 
  —Louis Untermeyer, The Wine of Night 
  dustinrathbun@hotmail.com 
  WES SCHNEIDER 
  Under the Hands of Hags 
  Infestation ! The Vocalist 
  A WOTC grunt of the lowest level in Columbia, 
  Maryland, “Wes” now spends his days trying to gain 
  the attention of his higher ups, while trying not to get 
  squished under their feet. As a piece of advice to all, 
  avoid pointed fingers, pirates, trolls, red shirts, and the 
  number fourteen. 
  Dendread@home.com 
  ANDY “SOCKO” SNOW 
  The Red Wolf 
  Not much is known about the man who calls himself 
  Socko, Two stories seem to emerge over and over 
  again. Either he’s a College Student living in a Sardine 
  Can in Syracuse NY, or He’s a mad Bard who wanders 
  the Shadowborn Cluster talking to a sock on his left 
  hand and seems to know things he truly shouldn’t 
  know. 
  count_strahd@excite.com 
  MIKE S.W. 
  Gothic Minnesota 
  My mom introduced me to fantasy (Chronicles of 
  Narnia and Piers Anthony’s Xanth series) but was, 
  believe it or not, afraid of AD&D (you know the whole 
  role playing is evil spiel), which (along with many other 
  roleplaying games) I have been playing for 10 years 
  now. Ravenloft has since then become my favorite 
  setting for AD&D. When MASQUE came out I 
  originally dismissed it as a silly and foolish waste of 
  time. However after a couple years I broke down and 
  bought a supplement. (I am a sucker for almost 
  anything with the RAVENLOFT logo on it.) I was very 
  pleasantly surprised. Thus the reason I wrote this 
  article; Minnesota gets such a raw end of the deal in 
  roleplaying I guess nobody thinks anything exciting 
  happens up here. (Or maybe its because we voted a 
  wrestler into office.) Anyways thanks mom for showing 
  me the direction even if we did not agree on the 
  destination and for putting up with me and AD&D. 
  count_strahd@excite.com 
  
  BOOK OF SECRETS: CREDITS 
  232 
  STUART TURNER 
  Terrible Transformations 
  Kargatane 
  Fourth time around, and still the submissions flood in. 
  Despite this being one of the more chaotic years for the 
  Kargatane, notably including the loss of four years of 
  emails, templates and other website work when my 
  computer exploded, it has as always been an enjoyable 
  experience. The release of third edition has revitalised 
  the D&D game, and I’m sure we’ll all see RAVENLOFT 
  live into D&D’s third incarnation, given the level of 
  online support we continue to see for the setting. 
  stu@kargatane.com 
  ANDREW WYATT 
  Children of the Nightless land 
  Wyan Twichell ! The Loçolico 
  Patchwork Folk 
  Kargatane 
  In reality, the Loçolico are very much a part of Rom 
  folklore, and the vivid legends surrounding them made 
  it hard to resist weaving them into Gothic Earth 
  somehow.  Likewise, the monsters for Tsuu-Y-Teke are 
  all based on creatures from native Brazilian folklore, 
  although they have been twisted somewhat to fit Luiz 
  Eduardo Peret’s vision for the parched domain. Wyan, 
  of course, is something of an alter ego, and a very 
  unflattering one at that . . . 
  wyatt@kargatane.com 
  
SOURCE: textdata/thevault/Dungeons & Dragons [multi]/AD&D 2nd Edition/Ravenloft/Netbooks/Ravenloft - Book of Shadows.pdf