I am glad to welcome the surviving students of the dungeon-lore. Today we will start with a _slightly_ more dangerous topic: the funeral customs of the Arascan folk.

Their roots and mentality

Arascans were the forefathers of Elves as we know them today. Being children of High Elves and Humans, great power was in them, and a touch of mortality. But they were few, and through continued inter-breeding with Humans their unique identity lessened, up to the point of becoming “normal” Elves. But that is history.

It is believed now that young members of this folk did not need to sleep, for such was their power of will, and curiosity for the world around them. But as they aged, the vast wealth of their knowledge, knowledge of both good and bad things, made them weary; some sages think their aging was in fact this weariness. And to rest, they learned to sleep, what other races did for ages already. But theirs sleep took longer and longer, as centuries of life accumulated into more weariness. They started to sleep for weeks, months, even years.

As their sleeps took longer and longer, they began to worry about the waking-up. For they lived with the short-lived Humans, and their children had ever-shortening lives. The world may change dramatically in a few years, what will it be like in centuries? Vows seldom last over one Human life, and even if, the group/tribe/nation that has given the word may fall to many threats.

Having a certain (probably inherited) desire for luxury, and seeing little reliability in the world around, even in their own race, they started to create safe places, good for sleeping and storing of necessary material, should they wake up, and desire to traffic with the outside world. This included things that were at all times considered valuable, like gold and gemstones. Indeed, the few “graves” that were looted gave birth to most legends of today, about graves of long-gone kings, filled with treasure and deadly traps. (The lack of trust in outsiders was really translated into traps.)

Oh, and one thing: the Arascans did not believe in Death, as people do now. Their sleep was only a method of resting, and if it took long, it was only because it was necessary. If the sleep took forever, no problem either. A _violent_ death, that happened to some of them, is only an end of the existence, Nothingness, no pain or memory, so not such a bad thing either. Arascans did not believe in Afterlife, in no form. No reason to get excited and fabricate all those ideas the short-lived races seem to fancy.

To sum it up: these people were long-living, powerful in Magic, and a bit crazy. Their resting places, while full of traps, were meant to be usable, if one has actually woken up from the Sleep. Thus, most traps can be by-passed or turned off (though not necessarily easily), and besides that gold and gemstones, there is also food and clothes. Besides pits and monster rooms, there had to be a functional closet somewhere, and other necessities. Sounds like a dungeon though…

Construction matters

Most corridors and rooms are rectangular, and often the layout seems to show some degree of symmetry. One should but never underestimate the twisted mind of the dungeon creator, following the symmetry may lead you into another trap!

The Arascans were a magical folk, the perfectly smooth walls were probably tunneled with magic. Not only that, but the rock is incredibly hard to overcome in any way, the whole dungeon is probably protected against earthquakes. Many of the traps are magical, and magic is still in effect in many places. (Teleportation spells seem to fail in some locations, too…) Be sure they used even ordinary traps and creatures, if they were considered effective.

The Layout

There is no fixed layout common to all of these dungeons, but some features seem to be always present:

First Gate
- with a symbol most probably still meaning Infinity (an 8 lying on its side, duh). If an ability or spell sensing magic is used, the spellcasters claim to perceive some kind of presence. This is probably a personal seal or signature of the dungeon’s creator and user, and more powerful/skilled wizards sense more.

Entry Hallway
- showing vivid paintings of torture and death, of those that enter this area (the victims are enchanted to change, to resemble the would-be-robbers). Some of these colorful masterworks may indicate actual traps inside, so it is advised to study them carefully.

Second Gate
- Contains a kind of “forcefield”, that can be easily crossed, painfully, but with a minor injury only. The meaning of this is unknown. Some think it is merely a psychological deterrent. Others speculate it is a detector: it is not possible to enter the dungeon otherwise, and even if there are multiple entrances, this forcefield always separates the Outside world from Inside. Some argue the Arascans were disgusted by dirt and vermin, and this field repulses them effectively.

Interior
- corridors, rooms, decorations, traps, the occasional monster, treasure, ... depend on the creator. :)

Treasury
- actually a storage room for the expensive stuff, it has but one guaranteed feature: a death trap.

True treasury and “Grave”
- the place of the final rest, it is hidden even better than the Treasury. Here sleeps the Arascan his or her eternal Sleep. Due to some protective spells, (or is it really sleep?) the body does not decompose. On its bed it lies, powerful impassable magic always protecting it. Around are items of personal need and liking, some may be worthless, some extremely potent and valuable. Only one bedroom has been found until now. The sleeping one did not awake, however, the unlucky finders died in horrible ways later, most probably through a powerful curse. Think twice before looting this place.

—-

Special Features:

“Fridges”
- quite an expensive magical investment. It is usually a specially marked small area, storing food, and occasionally creatures. If penetrating this area, the air feels like being denser and denser, and it is hard to get far. It is equally hard to get back.

The actual effect is but the slowing of time: the air is not denser, everything just gets _slower_, the deeper it gets! So the food (or a monster) just a yard/meter inside is perfectly preserved for centuries, maybe millennia. This is actually a nice way to have _living_ creatures inside a dungeon separated from the rest of the world! No need to get them food, simply set them loose once some alarm is triggered.

Note: may work as an interesting pit-trap, for you basically must spend the same time climbing out of it, as you have spent falling! (Well, actually not the same time, but I don’t want to work out the formulas for speed and everything.)

Creatures

- Undead are rarely used, the Arascans probably disliked them. But magical creatures were certainly high in favour.

Servants
- Could possess intelligence better not given to monsters, and control some traps. And as magical creations, they can sit&wait forever.

There could be even some sort of AI running the whole dungeon, according to its own weird programming. There you have all those walls that move and traps that activate, just as if something knew what to do… On the other hand, the AI may be lonely after all those years, and try to keep the visitors alive, to have something to play with. Creates another problems, though.

Traps
- can be expensive, and unrealistic. Both are advantages to the twisted Dungeon Master. And there can be many of them…

(Don’t forget classical spells like Reverse Gravity.)

Secret places
...are many too. :)

Decorations
- depend on the owner and creator. But typically most, if not all corridors and rooms are richly decorated. Usually carvings/paintings that give little sense, like geometrical shapes, irregular forms, leaves, etc. Of course, this makes searching for hidden things harder.

The decorations may have another impacts on the dungeon. Light could be used everywhere (perhaps activated, if it detects movement?). Thick grass could be planted on the floor (or be only an illusion…), if the owner liked it that way. Might give interesting clues, not only to the robbers.

Full Item Description
A mellow and especially smooth rum imported from the savage Ogres of the Great Woses.

History
Buck-Ogre rum is distilled from sugar cane and molasses cut in the wilds of the Great Woses. The Ogres, while a nasty and brutish race have discovered the art of distilling, with rum and cane ale being popular drinks there. While the cane ale is sour enough to earn the appelation of Rot Gut, the rum is a different matter.

Buck-Ogre rum commands a healthy price on the open market since acquiring it is difficult. The Ogres can just as likely trade with the merchants as bash them over the head and take them home for the cook pots. No honor among Ogres, as the expression goes.

Inside the Barrel
There is a terrible secret contained in each 300 liter barrel of Buck-Ogre rum. The ogres have a secret ingredient when they make their special batches and that is to stuff a live and naked human into the barrel before sealing it. The ogres say this gives the rum a special taste and they find it amusing that the humans are willing to trade for the rum.

The Rum Merchants are some of the most callous and heartless folk in all of Falhath as they will supply the ogres with victims for the rum barrels, as well as buying, selling, and trading the rum knowing how it is made.

Plot Hooks
Hooked on the Taste - The PCs get a chance at some Buck-Ogre Rum and discover they like it. tunrabout comes when they decided to go and trade for it themselves and run afoul of A. the ogres, B. the Rum Merchants Guild, C. the conscience when they discover the secret.

40 men all lost at sea - The PCs are contracted by the Rum Merchant’s Guild to serve as muscle for protecting a trade band. Can the PCs watch as humans are traded for barrels of rum and other goods? This can be a land or a sea voyage.

I can’t make this up!
http://go.reuters.com/newsArticle.jhtml?type=oddlyEnoughNews&storyID=12068926

I am glad to welcome the surviving students of the dungeon-lore. Today we will take a lighter and less dangerous topic: the funeral customs of the Hiberian folk.

The Hiberians were simple people, later marked as barbaric. For a time, they were the biggest threat to all countries near the Great Plains. Their effective raids and fierce warriors earned them a rightful place in all history books. Among the common folk, they are now almost forgotten. It would seem they left nothing behind, just the occasional red-haired man or woman indicate something different. But something remains hidden from the public view: their graves.

On many battlefields they spilled blood, their own and of others. Many songs remind of these mighty warriors, red-haired and unafraid unto their very death. And near to many of these battlefields, graves were made if time allowed, according to their old traditions.

To these days, numerous Hiberian graves were found, opened and looted, so their general layout and equipment is well known. As graverobbers say, these graves are the ‘best dig’, for despite the promise of only mediocre wealth there is little risk. The buried were invading barbarians anyway, so the moral qualms won’t get too bad (...as if there were among graverobbers any), and if caught, the judges are not so harsh. Penalty for defiling of graves is usually five and more years of heavy labour.

About Graves

One thing will be noticed immediately: all chambers are round. Some sages speculate the Hiberians came from far North, where round houses are built from ice (igloos). The little connecting tunnels might be evidence to it.

The most important is the corpse. It is in the middle of the chamber, very often standing (bound with sticks etc.), and equipped as in life, so a warrior would have his weapons at hand, often in hand. Sometimes the trusty horse is arranged so that the corpse is ‘sitting’ on it. ‘Treasure’ is always buried right under the corpse, consisting mostly of the loot acquired, or given from others during the last rites; warriors have it usually between two round shields. It also contains luck-tokens and other private things. Taking these personal tokens or destroying them are believed to curse the grave-robber.

On the walls of the burial chamber are numerous paintings of the deceased and his heroic deeds in life, like fights and wars and slaying of beasts. The moment of death is depicted especially heroically, and it is not unusual to present the warrior on a heap of corpses of enemies, heavily wounded but still fighting. Most of the time the only face clearly drawn on these paintings is that of the deceased. If another face is painted there, it must have had a special meaning, like a good friend, a great hero he met/saved/was saved by in a fight, or some remarkable enemy perhaps. (DM Note: special monsters might be introduced this way, too…)

Alternatively, the common life of the deceased is painted, how (s)he lived, what (s)he did, what was the cause of death. But common people that were not heroes were rarely buried this way.

Besides that, in most graves is pottery with unusable remains of food. Occasionally a well-preserved wine can be found, that can fetch a nice price.

Construction matters

Built out of stones, very rarely out of bricks, the chambers are made with great care for stability, made even stronger through the almost perfect spherical shape. The inner coating is very stable, said to be mixed with a certain kind of herb from the far plains, mashed and ground with clay and other components. Once dried, it is very water-resistant, and according to one story should have a freshly opened grave almost drowned its poor robber with the water that accumulated inside.

The connecting tunnels are always small, enough for a crouching man, but not much more. After last rites were performed and the corpse was placed, these tunnels were closed with stones and partially filled with earth. This causes the chambers to appear singular, and amateurs often forget to search for the tunnels that could lead to more treasure. (Hint: search for hollow spaces behind the walls.)

The outside look depends on how deep the builders digged. In most cases at least the top remains visible, its round shape can betray the location, despite being covered with earth. Rarely, you can find it if the top falls apart, or some lucky fellow fell this way in. The domes are but relatively stable, and once access is created they may serve as a lair for some creatures, humanoids even.

Spiritual matters

Little is known now about their spiritual life. It is sure they believed in spirits and had leaders with shamanic powers, but not much beyond this. As for their afterlife, it is said they continue living on in the spiritual world, and do not keep hold to the items they held in life. Of course this is considered inferior to our beliefs, but one shall notice there come very few Undead of the Hiberian folk (some are mentioned below).

Some say that the grave is home for the spirit in the spirit-world, but once it is complete, and all rituals are done, it is not needed anymore, and the Hiberians left it standing or falling on its own.

Basic grave

Smallest in size, it was intended for simple peasants, or when there is little time for extensive grave-building. Space enough for a corpse, occasionally found ‘sitting’. This type of grave is sometimes found collapsed, unlike the bigger types, which are constructed much more carefully.

Classical grave

The most common type, this features a ‘main’ chamber with the deceased, and a ‘side’ chamber that was smaller and served as the entry if needed. A connecting tunnel was in-between. The side chamber is always on the South, the main chamber on the North. (North was seen as more important.) The side chamber usually contained food and other things, tools of the trade, and not rarely wife, children or other relatives. Sometimes a trusty dog or similar animal.

Note: a man’s highest duty was to protect his family, meaning in those hard times that if the man is killed, the rest of the household is probably killed, too. On the other hand, the grave may be re-opened and closed years later to add the body of someone close to the deceased.

Advanced grave

This grave must house a hero, or someone else of importance. Around the central, main chamber are four smaller chambers, all connected with tunnels. Again, the South chamber has more importance and can house relatives and important items. The other chambers may contain other offerings, or maybe something else…

Shrine

This grave looks at first sight as the Advanced grave described before. The layout seems to be the same, and the offerings, while a bit greater, seem not special. Even the paintings may confuse. While the fights and wars are generally there, the deceased is depicted usually in the background, not in the heat of battle. A small but well-detailed figure will reveal to a careful eye the real grave-user: a mighty shaman.

The person in the main chamber is usually a strong warrior, often the shamans guard. The real grave is located UNDER the main chamber.

Note: needs more research.

Special

Undead
It is rare to find Undead in Hiberian graves, and those are mostly Lower Undead. The spiritual background of these people seems to be the reason. If it is true, where are these from?

Even between such bold warriors, it occasionally happened that someone dropped his weapon, and turned to flee the fight. This cowardly behavior was a great insult to all Hiberian warriors, and was punished in a special way. Once caught, they were put in a cage and displayed for all to see, given no food until they were too weak to move. When the graves of other, bolder, but dead warriors were completed, they were buried too, ALIVE. Cursed to be unable to find a way out of the grave, these unlucky souls shall protect and serve in the afterlife the comrades they betrayed. So you can occasionally expect a Zombie or a Skeleton madly attacking you, usually at some tight spot: while you are still half in the tunnel. These ‘guards’ are always in the side chambers, never in the main or South chamber.

Sometimes, there are two unlucky souls put into one chamber. And SOMETIMES, one of them is still strong enough to move…  Because there is no food in these chambers, and he is cursed not to find a way out, sometimes he turns on his unlucky comrade and eats him. In this case, the grave-robbers will face a weakened but crazed ghoul, that has not eaten for hundreds of years.

As for Higher Undead, only in extreme situations the deceased would rise in persona. Damaging the personal luck-tokens is believed to anger one, and a mighty Skeletal Warrior was once reported to be the result. But this seems only a temporary measure, because once the the disturbers were killed or chased away, the monster turned to skelet once again.

Traps
Luckily, the Hiberians were simple people, not too concerned what happens with a grave once it is complete. Luckily for grave-robbers, for no traps were installed in these graves, as is the custom of some other nations. Despite this, graves are never a safe area, and accidents can have serious consequences.

While a chamber is usually very stable, it can collapse if damaged/digged enough. Note that the ‘Shrine’ is deep under earth, and can be entered only through the top. This can weaken the structure, up to the point of collapsing and burying the thieves. But only one ‘Shrine’ was ever found, so this may be no chance. And when we speak about it:

Curses
Most graves are free to rob, but some, especially the ‘Advanced’ ones seem to bring bad luck to the robber, so they might be cursed from a shaman. Many were later caught, killed in an accident, or simply vanished. It may have something to do with those ‘personal luck tokens’, avoid them!

Full Description

Malitazum appears as an alligator of extraordinary size - its head is broad enough for a man to lay across.  One eye is missing and the other remaining orb is oddly human in appearance.  The beasts foot-long fangs are brilliant ivory, a spectacular and deadly display few survive seeing.

Additional Information

In the great salt-water marsh at the south end of the Enerith peninsula, the land of the Hanaset, dwells the god-beast Malitazum.  Another of the earthly creations of the Hanaset Gods, Malitazum is the patron of the Maletanalu. Where Lutazum is peaceful and orderly, Malitazum is vicious and chaotic.

Malitazum is not a distant, aloof patron, but is heavily involved with the doings of the Maletanalu tribe.  Although he does not directly issue commands to his people, he communicates through the tribal shamans he keep in close thrall.    Malitazum’s shamans are in near constant mental contact with the great gator, and are micromanaged to a great degree, giving them all a distracted, schizophrenic demeanor.  Malitazum is not supremely intelligent, nor a very good administrator, and his constant interference with bizarre projects, contradictory commands and inconvenient loss of interest has limited the effectiveness of the Maletanalu.  Once he requested all of the tribe’s children be fed to him, and the resulting chaos (families leaving rather then comply, outright rebellion, and the impact of losing a generation) nearly destroyed the tribe.  He is unlikely to repeat that error again - it took generations for the Maletanalu to recover.

Should a shaman of sufficient strength of personality arise, he might be able to channel Malitazum’s efforts and perhaps take control of the beast.  If that happens, the 5Maletanalu tribe may be much more of a threat to the other four tribes of the hanaset.

Any being approaching the great beast is in dire peril, and this can only be done relatively safely when he has been sated by food.  If he is hungry, even his own shamans are fair game.

Abilities

Malitazum’s physical attacks are of tremendous strength - his tail whip can shatter stone structures and fell trees, while his bite can shear most things asunder.  Victims who somehow survive his bite will be subjected to a terrible rotting disease, while his gaze id capable of enchanting those who meet that of his single eye.  Those who succumb to this power become enthralled and telepathically linked to the fell lizard.

Due to his low intelligence, moderate madness, and absence of usable hands, Malitazum is not capable of casting spells, relying instead on his proxies for such aid.

Malitazum is quite resistant to weather, being so large it would take an extended period of cold to slow him down.  Heat of less then volcanic temperatures does not bother him.

Campaign Use

While still only flesh, blood and ridiculously thick armor, Malitazum’ s power is between that of a Dragon and a Demigod. As such he is more appropriate as a background motivator.

Plot Ideas

Errands..
PC’s encounter Maletanalu warriors carrying out a bizarre mission on behest of Malitazum.  Delighted to have something to do other then the Mad croc’s orders, the warriors will fall upon the PCs with vigor and gusto. 

Into the Lair

Malitazum is in possession of some important Dingus the PC’s must retrieve. How they do it is up to them. Better make sure he has eaten recently…

Battle of the Icons

Once in a great while, the entities Lutazum and Malitazum cross paths, and the encounter is always a violent one. Malitazum hates Lutazum and always seeks to kill the great tortoise.  The battles are always inconclusive - both beings are extremely durable, and generally the jungle is what suffers - trees felled by the lashing tail of Malitazum.  PC’s happening upon the conflict best should avoid it or remain spectators.

A History of Death
the Obtort Ward is all that remains of what was once an ancient battlefield that was afterwards converted into a mass grave. After the battles were over, the bodies of the dead were buried in trenches and covered with a thin layer of soil. As the township grew into a city, the value of land started to grow and rather than tie up a large swath of soil as a cemetary, the locals elected to keep Obtort as a communal grave. Things remained tolerable as mostly only the poor and the middle class were relegated to the cold embrace of the soil there. Most of the wealthy and the noble were able to utilize familial holdings, catacombs, or some other arrangement that kept their mortal remains from being mixed with the corpses of the common and the poor.

This situation started to change as the township grew into a small city, and then into a large city. The central region that would later become the Obtort ward was swallowed by the spreading working class and lower income residential wards. Only the poor and working class would have to settle with living in such close proximity to the dead. The ground kept up it’s original purpose, becoming a dumping ground for the bodies of not just the remains of humans but soon anything that died and was not eaten was dumped there.

A Rising Problem
Some argue that the ground become overly saturated with entropic energy, or that the number of dead located in such a small place created a node of negative energy. Regardless of the reason, after some years the dead in the Obtort started to develop the habit of rising and seeking out the blood of the living. At first it was considered a few isolated incidents, a few zombies shuffling out and into the working class bars and brothels in the late hours causing no small amount of horror and upset.

After the seventh zombie attack, thanatologists and geomancers determined that the problem would not go away, and that the graveyard would continue to produce random undead at irregular intervals. The problem could be remedied if the dead were exhumed and properly buried and the land cleansed and purified. It was later determined that the cost of such a venture would be excessive and rather, the nobles and the guilds decided that it would be cheaper and more expedient to simply wall in the ward with stone wall high enough to keep the undead from escaping. A cover story was tossed out mumbling about wandering necromancers being responsible and that the wall was to keep them out.

The Gates of Death
Business as Usual
The Obtort ward would also continue to serve as the communal mass grave for the poor unable to afford a proper burial. To this end, heavy gates were built that would allow restricted access to the ward. A small contingent of city guard were pulled, mostly from the lists of guardsmen who had angered higher ups, or were deemed less than capable. In most cases, a handful of trained guards are more than capable of handling a few shamblers. A toll was instated, usually a few pieces of silver to drop a body.

An Obtort Vacation
A dirty secret of the city is that the criminal elements have discovered that dumping bodies over the higher parts of the wall is a good way to dispose of the inconvenient dead. This is done in the dark of night while the tenders are resting and the feral undead are the most active. More sadistic thieves and such will dump an injured or just unconscious person over the wall and make a bit of sport as to how long they will last before being pulled down and eaten by the zombies and skeletons.

The Body Tenders
Working in the daylight hours only, while most of the undead are hidden and slumbering, the Tenders are a mortician’s guild/cult that handles most of the body work. They keep pathways through the heaps and generally keep the worst of the decomposition near the center of the ward and move the cleaned bones or dry and dessicated corpses towards the outside areas. The Body Tenders are dominated, both terms of numbers and leadership, by a single large and incredibly perverse family. While quite destitute, the Tenders are thick with necrophiliacs, amateur necromancers, incestuous relationships and riddled with both deformities and disease. For a visual imagine the cast of House of 1,000 Corpses but wearing robes and playing with dead people. Few people enjoy dealing with the family, but most have no other choice, and for the most part, the elder patriarch is able to keep the worst of the violations and desecrations out of public sight.

Hey Buddy, can you give me a hand?
As an increasing pile of body parts, necromancers are particularly drawn to the location. Some come to simply study the necromantic energies that saturate the soil, and increasingly the people who work the ward. Others come to steal parts for their own uses. As most of the gatewatch is on the outs and underpaid, a few gold pieces are more than enough to get them to turn their heads.

The Shattered Hand
Necromancers tend to have lairs cluttered with the broken corpses of their failed experiments and would be do-gooders who fell to their undead minions. While this makes for neat scene dressing, it would certainly be an annoyance to the working necromancer, and they could possibly welcome a dumping ground that doesnt ask too many questions. During the night time hours, these elder and more accomplished necromancers could bring the remnants of failed experiments and zombies and skeletons that are damaged, but not worth the time and effort it would take to fix them.

Undead Resources

The Citadel is full of great ideas for filling out the zombie infested bowels of the Obtort ward. Here are some suggested resources for your necromantic enjoyment.

Captain Penguin’s Remaking the Undead is a tremendous resource for off-normal undead creatures. The Codex has links to more than a dozen variations of the undead theme.

Valadaar’s 30+ Walking Dead is a solid resource for filling out the ranks of the less exotic zombies.

Finally, my own 30 ZOMBIE FREAKS! was originally started as a small list of strange undead to place in the Obtort Ward.

The Augery of Skulls
Undead can spontaneously rise, but these feral undead have a significant difference from those undead created by the refined powers of necromancy. Unlike those sustained by magic, the feral undead must either consume the flesh of the living, or cannibalize the necromantic essence of other undead. Since the wall around the Obtort is well made on the inside to prevent any sort of climbing, the undead are left to prey on their own kind to sustain their tenuous and fading existances. The hideous aspect of this is that the undead eat each other, and often pick at the bodies of the mundane dead seeking for some sort of essence to fill them, but failing to find any.

Undeath in the ward is a Hobbesian ideal, short and brutal. Most freshly risen undead last less than a week. Most are caught and consumed by the larger and established undead who are somewhat like the undead bosses of the ward. Others that are able to escape are confronted with a lack of consumable essence, or run afoul of the city guardsmen or erstwhile heroes looking to test their mettle in a controlled enviroment.

The Heart of the Matter
The Obtort ward has a secret that it has kept since the first undead shuffled out of it. Near the center of the ward is not one, but three small hell pits. These pits, the largest being three feet across, are the source of the continually rising undead. At the current time, no one outside of the Ward knows about these burbling fonts of chaos and evil within the walls, otherwise much more serious action would be taken to stop their slow growth. Within the ward, there are a handful or advanced undead, zombies with fragmentary intelligence that understand that the pits are very important and at times drag corpses into their viscid waters, causing the corpse to rise as a zombie freak or necromutant.

Plot Hooks
Zombies in the Mist - A Nethermancer, also known as a white necromancer, has decided to study the spontaneous undead generated by the tainted soil of the Ward. As such, he has contacted the PCs to fetch him samples of soil, bodies, and return with zombies in as best condition as they can. After these initial forays, the nethermancer will decide to enter the Ward himself, setting up confrontations with advanced or exotic undead, assassins dumping bodies, necromancers in the process of either sumped their bodily refuse or stealing bodies and spare parts.

Oops, Wrong Casket! - The body of a wealthy and powerful noble has been dumped, quite by mistake, into the middle of the Obtort ward, after being looted of course. Now what would be a normal dash in and out with the shrouded body becomes a major problem when instead of being cold and dead, the noble has since risen as an exotic and powerful undead creature that must be subdued with a minimum of fuss and damage to the corpse.

For Priest and Faith - After many many years of pretending there is no problem and passing the buck, the dominant faith has made it an initiative to clean out and clean up the Obtort Ward. It will be no easy task, certainly nothing for the less than militant clerics and monks, but the special arena of adventurers-upon-return. PCs can expect moderate clerical support as they are hired to clear out the zombie nests, some of which are quite deep and thick with mangled and still crawling undead, as well as destroying the more powerful undead. After this, the PCs can expect a minimal payment and a pat on the back for participating in such a noble venture for so little in return.

Gatewatch - An assassin has killed several important people, their corpses being found days later dumped in the Ward. The PCs are hired to stand in as the Deathgate Watch to help discover who is behind these heinous murders, and have the entertainment of dealing with the necromancers, who are quite used to passing their coin with no questions asked. The PCs have to let the corpse-thieves go on with their grisly business or risk blowing their cover and perhaps becoming the assassins nect targets.

It’s All in the Family - In a horror-game, the PCs are low level characters who have been abducted for a bit of fun by the Body Tenders. They can be lured in by sexy jail-bait necrophiliac, and then encounter the more deformed and bestial members of the family as they are run through a night time gauntlet of horrors, pits of scrabbling zombies and left to face the master of the clan, armed with a brutish zombie on a chain and a large and nasty weapon. In the end, who will miss a few more sell-swords soaking up beer in the tavern?

Technology:
The most prominent feature of their culture was indeed clay. Whether baked or dried bricks, their houses were built of it, their pottery was of unrivaled quality even long afterwards. Their greatest weakness was not knowing the secret of metal. While in technology they were surely above the primitives around, they somehow failed to harness gold, copper or iron. Some claim it had religious reasons, but I fear the truth won’t be known anymore.

As for weaponry, the Pelezzians valued bows at most, and these weapons were treasured highly. Sadly, few of the quality bows are still usable. The arrowheads are used even today.

Architecture:
A single building was a small cuboid thing, but most families had several, a settlement thus had many. One leaning on another, some built on the top of others, a very compact village it was. While a bit cramped, it offered excellent defense in its time: to the outside there were no windows or doors, alarmed defenders simply pulled the ladders up, the attackers now facing a bare wall and a rain of arrows. Good protection against nomads on horse or feet, but certainly no match for siege engines of today.

(A few images of similar buildings would do fine here… think houses of the native american people, or the mexican pueblos.)

Primitive as they may look to us, they were skilled at using water, each village was connected to nearby springs, each house with own fresh water and drainage. Once an enterprising robber, err, I mean explorer took the pains to dig out all the pipes of a lost city, and made an excellent business. It is said these pipes serve until today.

Of still greater importance were their waterworks - the canals, pools and dams secured water; it appears the climate used to be much more dry then.

Treasures:
Their love for pearls made them hoard it, and keep in hidden places. While used in some ritual context (the dead were often buried with pearls), they were most probably used as currency for significant deals. They collected other gems and precious stones, but always kept them raw. It seems the art of gem-cutting escaped them, too.

Their artwork is still valued today - especially the black pottery, the secret of its production long lost, can fetch a nice sum. Small baked figurines are perhaps the most common find, one or more in each room can be expected, depicting scenes from their life. As their quality varies, it appears that even small children were expected to make them. The figurines may have a ritual meaning as well, some dead can be found clutching them in their hands. Actual statues are rare.

Writing
The Pelezians have known writing, but they used it mostly for ritual purposes and the keeping legends. For this purposes they used animal skins and inks that stay readable until today, few are but able to read them.

One interesting side-effect of their views on afterlife is but, that they never mention the names of the dead, not in the graves, not elsewhere. It is all proper to call upon your ancestors for advice, but bugging them even after hundreds of year is out of form. The Dead have to be remembered in persona, and are not to be disturbed for trivial reasons.

For same reasons, there were very few but the most legendary heroes mentioned explicitly in their legends; in all such cases are descriptions and nicknames used.

Afterlife
As for Afterlife beliefs, theirs was a strongly spiritualistic world view. With spirits influencing their daily life, they relied on their ancestors for guidance and protection. To keep their Dead close to our world, they built graves for the body, and homes for the spirit, two in one.

Dungeon Construction
The graves were usually built in caves, or at least close to a solid stone wall. Built from baked and dried bricks, walls are often easy to tear down, or even forced like a door! But that is not always a good idea. (We will speak of traps in a moment.)

Layout - numerous small rooms and corridors, creating intricate layouts; there exist many half-secret passages leading nowhere. Many walls can be easily collapsed, though it is not always a good idea. Cave-ins are a real danger, traps are also very possible.

Traps:
Pelezzians are remembered as the inventors of Alchemy. Knowing well that graves tend to be ambushed, they prepared many mechanical and other traps for unwelcome visitors. Yes, things can catch on fire mysteriously. And yes, some containers explode when opened.

The worst is a strange gas without scent (with a greenish colour if concentrated), it irritates skin, eyes and the nose, leaving you crying, half blind and disoriented. The gas was often filled into eggs, which were carefully built into walls. So if you tear down any wall, be careful, and wear some protection (shields don’t count). Luckily not all tombs are equipped in this way.

Rarely, the whole complex can be suddenly filled with water. Think of what happens with all those dried mud bricks around…

Special Features
One especially annoying feature of their architecture has a simple cause: spirits are not hindered by matter, right? Many times, a fancy carved stone door or window is only solid rock, a foot or more strong stone is hard to overcome for many an explorer. The room behind such a ‘door’ was digged and furnished from some other side, surely walled up now.

Other architecture
There exist a few gigantic temple/burial areas - having no interior at all, all bodies were covered with stones, every single grave enlarging the temple. These holy places possibly hold great treasures, but it would take years, even centuries to remove all the stones. Also, as ages pass by they are more and more covered by vegetation and mistaken for small hills.

Sages speculate this architecture has influenced the Payan one.

Full Item Description

Soul Disks are thin bi disks (disks with a hole in the center) of smooth jade or agate. (Glass, once thought to be precious, was used by The Ancients.) They can be of any size, but those used for funerary purposes are from 4 to 5 enc in diameter. (The Enc is an ancient unit of measurement, 4 to 5 enc are about 7.5 cm to 9.5 or 3ish inches, even today the tradition holds to that size.)   Those that are worn are from one to two Imperial Inches (3 to 5 cm) in diameter. Those made outside the South Eastern Domains could be of any material that has spiritual/ magical resonance such as opal, quartz, or firestone. It is said that there are ones made for the insanely rich, powerful, or magical made of PowerStone. 

History

The use of Soul Disks starts with the ancient civilization that once ruled the areas of what are now the South Eastern Domains. Even though that culture is lost to the sands of time, bits and pieces have floated to the present day. 

Soul Disks were placed over the head or heart of the recently deceased, so when their soul was ready to leave the body, it would have a gateway directly to The Sky Heavens to its next life. This tradition remains strong to this day. There is not a burial or internment in the South Eastern Domains, except for the most wretched of people, without a Soul Disk included.

Among the educated, it was noted that the disks protected the deceased from evil spirits. As they approached the dead, they were drawn into the disks and deposited on the doorstep of the Sky Heavens. And they were taken care of. This protected both the Living and the Dead.

In the early Common Era, soldiers from the South Eastern Domains, and Ylarra, have found themselves fighting in "less cultured" areas. After battles in such places, their bodies, the bodies of the enemies, would neither be properly interned or return to their families.  Of course all mothers worry about their children and even worry about them in death.  Mothers began to send off their sons with soul disks around their neck.  Thus if they died, they would have a portal right there to return to the proper Sky Heavens instead of the skies of some foreign land.  Over time, these disks began to shrink in size to a more manageable one.

The practice soon spread amongst the various militaries that allied or fought against these units. Soldiers, whom knew that realistically, their body and soul would probably not be attended to after the battle especially if their side loses. Such portals to The Heavens seemed like a perfect back up plan.

In the Conflicts of the Great Crossings, The Generals from the South Eastern Domains adopted the tradition of "caring for the well being"of their troops. They would often give them to their Western and Northern staff members. Some even supplied them to their troops (though they were cheap and made of glass). Thus the bi disks and the ideas behind them spread.  Since the Soul Disks and what they were said to do did not infringe upon the beliefs of The Proper Faiths, those of The Lands could use them as well.

Through the conduit of The Military, the soul disks came into Civilian Life. The beliefs behind them made contact with foreign cultures and changed slightly. They are used in many funerary rights throughout The Domains. In fact even the Silent Towers have a single disk in them to aid any remaining spirits to fly to the Heavens. Mostly, people wear them. Their spiritual insurance aspect is seldom downplayed, but other beliefs were added.

They were thought to be a conduit for luck. As the disks were gateways to the heavens and the heavens were a source of all luck, it seemed natural to those of the Northern Domains to think of them as lucky charms. 

The spirit tormented Ylarrans realized that any ghost or spirit approaching them would be drawn into the portal that is the bi disk and sucked up into The Sky Heavens. Thus they would gain a measure of protection from a number of spirits castes.

Several sects of eastern monks have taken to placing them on prayer alters, so their prayers (and the spirits responses) would travel easily between the Heavens and the Mortal Sphere.  Other Godsworn are adopting the idea as well.

As the idea of wearing a Soul Disk all the time (when not facing battle or imminent death) is returning to the South Eastern Domains, many of these ideas are returning with it. Those of the less traditional bent are adopting these outside additions to their own ideas. In fact, given the turbulent and troubling times for those living The South Eastern Domains especially those in Yao and Qui where tradition is breaking down quickly- the bi disks are worn to help one skip from this wretched life they are living to their next, better life.. all in this same lifetime. Thus they spiritually die and are reborn free of many of the ties to their old, and obviously troubled, lives.

The bi disk is a powerful symbol. Thought of as a representation of the Sky Heaven, the circle enclosing a perfect hole, conveniently placed for the soul or any spirit to pass through (and for any evil spirits to escape!), the symbolic ideal finds many expressions. Thus the beliefs of the ancients can be seen today in modern cities all over the South Eastern Domains. Many of the buildings still have a round opening, with a round ring around it, through which any evil may pass freely without besmirching the inhabitants.

Magic/Cursed Properties

The disk acts as a portal between the material world and the spiritual world. This allows spiritual things to travel directly to the Sky-Heavens, without having to risk the potentially treacherous and damming gauntlet of spirits and demons between the mortal realm and the Sky Heavens.

Negative spirits are drawn through the portal. Thus they are unable to (or more accurately less able to) effect a wearer.  The spirits are sent to the Sky Heavens, where they are either destroyed or driven off.

Other beliefs and advantages may be possible, given the campaign and how the people believe in them.

In terms of game mechanics, these advantages are nominal. A small bonus to resistance against negative spirits and to avoid being made a ghost would be the most appropriate. (The ubiquitous +1 seems appropriate). Activated in ways appropriate for your game system and magic system (drama dice, power rolls with manna, one use since the last prayer), other applications may be possible.  Heck, they may make good spell foci for simple spirit charms.

Explanation

Normally I post an item like this up and many people post comments that show they missed the point of the submission. Then I go off in the comments explaining the submission, and why it is important or at least notable, and so on. Usually this response is longer than the post. I am cutting right to the chase and posting it now.

There you go. All wrapped up.

Full Description
The Parched can be born of any sapient creature who dies in a dry, hot environment; the only common traits are the tough, leathery skin that has been baked to a purplish-black hue, with the flesh beneath parched to such a degree that the creature is little more than a horrific leather sheath over the desert-dry bones. The eye sockets are empty, the soft tissues there having burned away beneath the relentless desert sun, and the flesh around the mouth has shrunk and drawn taught, revealing cracked, blackened gums set with sand-polished teeth. What appears to be sand - really the perpetually crumbling internal organs and soft tissues of the creature’s innards - trickles from cracks in the sun-baked skin with each movement, leaving a fine trail of powder wherever it walks.
Additional Information
Parched are created when a sapient creature dies under the harsh glare of the desert sun, the unforgiving light and heat forcing the moisture from it until even the deepest tissues and the very bones have become devoid of any dampness. Those whose minds and spirits linger until the last moment, their thoughts consumed by a feverish desire for cool and water, often arise as the Parched; the desires which held their minds at the moment of death become the driving force of the undead creature, driving it to crawl across the sands, becoming ever more dessicated, leathery, and burnt by the relentless sunlight as it seeks oases and shade by day.
The Parched can consume prodigous amounts of water, and radiate an aura of the desert’s daytime heat. They can dry up an oasis over a week’s time, and their leathery skin turns aside blades. However, their bodies are so dried out that any smashing weapon capable of dealing trauma through the skin will shatter the dried-out bones, crippling the loathsome thing.
Servants of the gods of sun and desert find it a simple matter to command these pathetic creatures, using their connection to things of heat to cow them into submission, while servants of cold, water, and night find themselves hard-pressed by the furious need that drives the Parched.

It is possible to destroy one of the Parched by immersion in more liquid than it can destroy in a short time, effectively quenching it. This would necessitate a truly large volume, however, and would destroy a fair portion of the water involved in the process.

Parched are rarely, if ever, encountered beyond the desert’s fringes, which they cause to gradually expand. The world ‘outside’ the desert seems painfully cold and clammy to them.

Eons past, the progenitors of the Rephatians were driven from their homelands by the Giants of Stoneholt. Taking to the sea in a fleet of primitive, barely sea-worthy ships, they followed the islands of the Mhudarkin archipelago until they found the continent of Rephatia.  Their flight had been largely unplanned, and though some food supplies and livestock were brought, they were all consumed prior to landing on Rephatia.  As a result, they had little to restart their farming with and had to make do with the local flora and fauna.

The creatures native to Rephatia had never seen humans, and the other humanoid races of Rephatia were not major hunters. As a result, the local animals were easy prey to the invaders.  The existing humanoid populations were forced into marginal territories or exterminated.

By the time the supply of easy food had been exhausted, the humans managed some agriculture with the native plants. This still left a great shortage of protein and so fishing and later cannibalism became commonplace.

As time passed, they developed a hierarchial caste system.  Those of lower castes were subjugated and preyed upon by those of the higher castes.  In an effort to address some of the problems the absence of suitable domesticatable animals caused, the mages among the Rephatians (obviously among the highest caste) began experiments with the lowest caste, breeding them and twisting them with magic.

Over the generations, the different castes have evolved in greatly different directions.  Only the higher castes are still clearly human with little changes, but the lower castes of labourers, and food no longer appear normal.
Some, with the effects of magical intervention, are grotesque mockeries of the human form.  They have been shaped into ‘Humanamorphs’ to fill all sorts of ecological niches on the island.

So now the land of the Rephatians is a nightmare kingdom.

The Rephatians were faced with many of the same issues as the tribes of the pacific islands, with some major differences.  They are the instigator of the largest world-level plot in the campaign world of Neyathis.  The cannibalistic, gene-modifying society is intended to provide a major enemy that is not supernatural in origin - no demons, undead or golems.  Their weapons are the product of inhumanity to humanity.

Many ideas from this society and associated subs were inspired by:

Man After Man: An Anthropology of the Future,Dougal Dixon
Guns, Germs, and Steel: The Fates of Human Societies is a 1997 book by Jared Diamond

I intend to add a lot more submissions linked to this society as time allows. Their great ships of Giant Bamboo. Their Beasts of War. The invasion of Nyathis, The Great Game and others.

Stay tuned….

Full Description
There are some people in the world who’s strong religious beliefs or fear of fire in life, have caused them to abhore cremation for themselves after death. Normally when they die they are buried by their grieving family, but in a few cases they end up on a funeral pyre. It may be because they have died in a country where burial is illegal,unheard of, or very expensive due to a shortage of land, or because someone wants to get back at them.

If the person had a fear of cremation that was strong enough, the spirit is so angry that it cannot pass on into the next world and possesses it’s ashes and burnt bones. Such a spirit will rise a night after the pyre and look for revenge on those who burnt it’s body, typicly by setting their houses on fire by night and watching them burn alive.

If the spirit finds itself trapped in an urn when it rises, it’s anger will be incandesent and should it ever escape it will attack the first person it sees.

Additional Information
The Urn Beasts are so called because of their terrible tempers. Should it’s Urn be smashed, an Urn Beast will rise in what looks like an ashy humanoid shape with claws of burnt bone.It cannot hold this shape for long, and swiftly falls into a cloud of dust and bone,shaped very much like a Willow the Wisp. The claws can do minor damage by scratching, and a touch from the spirit can cause burns, which can get infected, not to mention setting cloth on fire, but their most dangerous attack is to try and attack the mouth.

Should any part of the ashes get into a living person’s mouth, that person, unless his or her spirit is very strong, will be possessed by the Beast. There are only three ways to extract it-first, by killing the host body.
Secondly, by powerful magic-of the level that most well-rounded PC’s do not have. Thirdly, by providing a dead human body that has not yet rotted. The Beast will transfer itself to the dead body, which should be buried and a prayer said. The Beast will then transfer itself to the afterlife peacefully, leaving the body to rot away.

If a person is possessed for more then three days, then the Beast can only be removed by the death of it’s host, as it will have consumed the soul of the possessed one utterly. People possessed by the Beast do not go crazy and slaughter people-indeed they only normally fight to defend themselves, as the Beast considers itself human again. It will have no dislike for the PC’s but will want to live it’s life that it lived before death and will have no intrest in any adventures.

Cremating a body or even burning someone alive will only create an Urn Beast if said person truely did have a horror of their body ending up as ashes after death. It may be that one or more of these is used as a booby trap in a tomb of some great noble. There are people who confuse these spirits with the far more deadly Aspergoi, which can burn a person alive just by getting close to them.

It is also possible for the ill informed to mistake an Aspergoi for an Urn Beast…with painful and fatal results.

Plot Hooks-An old graveyard has been dug up by the Royal Recoverers and the bones burnt.Since then there have been a spart of arson attacks and the PCs must find out why.

And the spirits besought him, saying: Send us into the swine, that we may enter into them.

Full Description

A huge bloated sow, ashen and malevolent in appearence, with patchy skin, sinister, pus-filled eyes, and a slightly enlarged, Hyaenidaen jaw, though otherwise not unlike a large, mundane porcine specimen.

Additional Information

As to the nature of the accursed Yird-Swine, much has been written, but little is known. The truth is lost, along with Tund the Tiller, his pig, and the monks of St. Sevastiabo.

It was that most industrious of soil-workers, Tund the Tiller, who later went on to fall through a hole in the ground never to be seen again, who created the first and only Yird-Swine. But that is not entirely true.

Tund lived beside a cemetary, his patch of land neighboring Church grounds. The faithful of St. Sevastiabo owned most of the land back in those times, and an honest farming man had to make due with his given lot in life.

And so Tund tilled the earth, and cursed the putrid soil of the burial grounds around him. Tund raised pigs as well on his stead. He was known to capture wild boar and breed them with his pinkish sows, and in fact was quite famous in the nearby town of Heldingfirst as an expert pig breeder.

The vast cemetery on the grounds of St. Sevastiabos parish, served as a dumping site for the thousands of dead soldiers returning from the Half-Century Wars. Those many who had suffered and perished from the insidious Spotted Plague were likewise buried in the fetid earth. The land was swollen with the dead and decaying, like an overripe great, grayish gourd.

As the monks of the parish razed and dug up the soil to make room for the ever-steady supply of corpses, the still decomposing carcasses already interred, had to ignobly give way to the freshly slain. The soft earth could not support so much rotting flesh. And so it fell upon Tund and his known ingenuity to help the brothers get rid of the dead. Tund fed the rotting cadavers to his pigs, and that is how it began.

Soon, the monks were paying Honorary Bother Tund good coin to feed the remains of the dead to his swine. But it was when the inevitable occurred that the unimaginable happened.

When the first skeletons, zombies and ghouls had arisen, the brothers of St. Sevastiabo faint-heartedly hid behind the walls of their parish, preparing their orisons and prayers to ward off undeath. Tunds pigs however, which had taken to wandering the cemetery grounds, digging up the shallower bodies and eating them (a practice the brothers of St. Sevastiabo had learned to turn a blind eye upon, due to the practicality involved), upon encountering the moving meals decided to not be overly picky in their consumption habits, as pigs tended to decide, and began feasting on the living dead!

Wait professer, I feel I must interrupt. Are you deigning to set forth that this farmer’s silly pigs beat back a swarm of undead, skeletons, zombies, and ghouls you say, by simply eating them alive? the student shot the professer an incredulous look. Well, there should be armies of pigs across the lands then I say! Why, we would never suffer the lesser undead again!

No, my worrisome little learner, that is not what I deign to set forth. If you would merely continue to listen, I will explain further. Though you mention the lesser undead and that is an interesting note.

And so the risen and the accursed slew the swine as they in turn feasted on the legs and feet of the slow moving dead. The lamentable shrieks of the pigs contrasted with the deathly silence of their inevitable slayers. But it was at this time that the brothers of St. Sevastiabo finally rushed out in force, and cast their prayers and orisons, weaving a web of glorious, divine and blessed retribution upon the entire burial ground. Caught in this net of faith were the undead and the screaming pigs alike. The death spawn returned to mother-earth as dust, and all but one of the pigs, unaffected by the holy might, perished from grievous wounds. Only Tund the tiller and one pig remained standing in the graveyard.

But what a pig this was! Now here is where opinions differ. Some say that the divine spirit entered the swine and infused it with some mysterious power. Another school of thought stipulated that the undead were simply tricked by St. Sevastiabo, into carrying out an ancient passage from a holy text, which served as a prophecy to the readers of the Annals of the Emergence. It was written on those pages that the spirits of the dead, shall willingly enter the mouths of swine, and then know peace, or something to such effect. It is this school of thought which I humbly subscribe too, if truth be known.

Nevertheless, others suggest that the pig in question must have swallowed some great artifact during one of its cemetery feastings, and this unconfirmed shard somehow activated inside the creatures bowels, when the monks unleashed their spells. Some say, that there are many Yird-Swines out there. Almost every village and thorp between Meisingweldt and Josters Lance, claim to possess one such beast in their particular bone yard. So perhaps the creature had somehow spawned and gifted its taint to its offspring. We will never know. Yet others tend to dismiss the Yird-Swine altogether, claiming the frenzy regarding its supposed ‘dark powers’, simply emerge from the fertile imaginations of those low folk dwelling near and beside graveyards. After all, a quite morbid vision it must be, to witness a perfectly normal pig, burrowing through the soft earth of the cemetery, feasting on whatever lies within. It is the nature of mundane pigs, I fear, to behave this way.

Well, I tell you it exists! Or at least it once existed, who knows if the Yird-Swine is still alive all these centuries later. Let me get back to Tund and the brothers of St. Sevastiabo for a moment. Apparently after all was said and done, the undead returned to the graveyard in question at a later date. But this time, when they did, Tunds surviving sow was ready for them. As it is written in the records of the monks of St. Sevastiabo, so it should be believed. The pig sought out the walking dead and began to passionately and effectively devour and digest them, like so many ears of corn, and the fell legion was helpless to prevent their own demise, for it is said in the Annals of Emergence, that the spirits will seek to be within the Swines belly as a dying man seeks salvation, and no foul hand shall be extended by them towards the Swine, or something like that. No one knows what happened to Tund afterwards, but the blessed pig escaped, never to be seen again.

"And so concludes our brief but passionate discussion of that mythic beast, the Yird-Swine, any questions?

Well, yes professor, a student spoke.I am still a bit barmy on the detail. You say the Yird-Swine is..err..was..is? A pig, infused with divine favor, which despite all of the dread superstitions and fears of the low-born circulating around it, is..was..in actuality, a great boon, which potentially to this very day stalks the graveyards of men, consuming the waking dead? Is that what you are suggesting? the student smiled mockingly.

Believe what you will, dear boy. We are out of time for today, the professer curtly replied. I merely tell you what I know and what I suspect to be close to the truth.

I fear we are no closer to the truth after that lecture professer. Perhaps we will never know the essence and genuineness of the dreaded Yird-Swine. A young lady in the back pontificated.

"Well then, at least you have learned that little bit of wisdom today my girl. Mayhaps you can take that with you as todays learned lesson. The professor concluded.

Fools! He muttered as he went away. They didnt believe him. They didnt believe in the Prophecies. Yet the servant of St. Sevastiabo would be out there still, he thought, their doubts nonwithstanding, searching the dark graves of men, blissfully destroying the foul undead. They do not deserve your favor St. Sevastiabo!

Game Terms:

There is a Yird-Swine, and though its exact origin is impossible to ascertain, it exists. A huge, hulking sow, gray, covered in mud, with demonic yellow eyes, and skin receding in patches does indeed stalk some unknown graveyard somewhere to this day, infused with the blessing of St. Sevastiabo himself, sustaining it for centuries, and giving it a bizarre attribute. The Yird-Swine will eat anything, it is a true omnivore, like all members of the porcine race. It has a particular hunger for corpses in unrest however, those men and women that occasionally birth with Unlife, and emerge from the grave.

Though the prophecies found inside the Annals of Emergence are not entirely accurate in stating that the undead seek to be devoured by the swine willingly, the swines saliva does exude a paralyzing toxin, which affects only the corporeal undead, freezing their magically animated limbs and torsos, as the Yird-Swine bites into their horrid, putrefying flesh. Its teeth as can be surmised, are also quite adept at ripping necromantic flesh and bone apart, and its jaw structure and strength is not unlike that of a huge hyena. Additionally, undead have a certain fear of this creature, for it is said they recognize its nature upon first seeing it. It is a true boon to man, the Yird-Swine, though greatly misunderstood and not recognized as such. Countless foul legends surround the Corpse-Eater, and worst of all, no one knows where it may be at any given time. Yet the ignorant, unknowing mobs still have a wretched champion in their eternal struggle against the myriad legions of undeath.

It should be noted that the Yird-Swine can devour only material undead. Skeletons, zombies, ghouls, and other lesser undead are its forte. The Yird-Swine has no effect on the superior undead, such as specters or vampires, nor can it effect incorporeal creatures, such as ghosts or poltergeists. It should also be noted that the Yird-Swine is not all that difficult to slay if confronted. Despite its immortality, it can be killed by conventional means. It survives due to its environment and cunning, making its way from one graveyard to another, itself unknowingly disguised as a common swine, often burrowing and hiding in the damp earth, and due in equal measures to the incredible fear and loathing which ignorant pitch-fork bearing commoners have for this rarely seen beast.

This can serve as a legend, or perhaps someone has discovered and managed to capture the "wicked" Yird-Swine. Perhaps a mage, cult or priest has discovered a way to reproduce the sterile creature to create an entire necrophagic, porcine army! Necromancers across the land beware!

end note: borrowed an actual bible passage to play around with, Mark 5:12. Also, I think "Yird" was just an archaic form of "Yard".

According to the

History Of The Blue Thunggars

, the Thunggarchii, all of the tribes of the steppe- the Blue Thunggars and White Thunggars, the Rayghog, Xanggur, Oyurppor, the Beyorxor (who are Mitraists), and others, including the mongrel Thongog (and, some say, the Hugach, though this is disputed), are descended from the ancient nomad people known as the Yughort. It is said that this shadowy people, remembered in the legends of settled people as a great empire of cannibal riders who worshiped severed heads, were descended from the copulation of the red stag Hayach and the blue wolf Orrxort. Their child was Yugh Bronxur, who is remembered as the legendary founder of nomadic steppe cultures of the current era.
Yugh Bronxur’s people, the Yughort, rode the steppes in ancient days and were the bane of the settled folk. Much is said of the insane cruelty and demonic bloodthirst of the Yughort warriors. It is said in the

History Of The Blue Thunggars

that they "worshiped War as other men bow down before the altars of gods, and held the killing of men to be a holy sacrament". They are most commonly remembered for their extermination of the Kighui people, one of the ancient and noble cultures of the high steppes, an act which has from then on deprived the steppe peoples of a written language. It is said that Yugh Bronxur himself ordered the Kighui massacred, stating that "the scroll, the book, the pen- these things chain my people down".

The Yughort were not a people completely without permanent things. To this day, the ritual structures erected by the ancient Yughort remain on the vast plains, though most have crumbled to ruin. These structures include the honor-temples within which the Yughort would enshrine the severed heads of particularly pernicious enemies (most of these temples have collapsed, and the heads have been stolen for their ritual power), the small walled areas where the Yughort would trade with merchants from beyond their empire, and, most notably, their distinctive burial towers.

The most common of the remaining structures of the nomadic Yughort empire, these towers are typically clustered on the plains in a contained area, built near to each other, like an eerie, silent village of stone huts. They were typically built from worked stone and plaster in a very distinctive "upside-down goblet" shape.

Slave families lived near the burial areas to work the stone and construct the towers, though maintaining tradition, a Yughort would always place the capstone, inscribed with the image of the banded night-hawk of the steppes, the animal which swallowed the spirits of the dead. Later in the Yughort empire, these slave families gained great political power due to the fact that only they retained the rituals necessary to lay Yughort dead to rest.

These structures contained only one tall chamber. The floor was typically about 10 feet below ground, so that those entering the sacred burial space would descend a circling wall staircase.
Each burial tower belonged to one family; typically, all the families of a clan would have their towers in one region (though families were known to exchange their oaths and join other clans). After the funeral ceremony, which was held with pomp and great ceremony outside of the tower, the corpse would be carried into the burial chamber by specially-purified attendants (often the deceased’s closest friends). Within the chamber, the arms and legs of the corpse would be broken to prevent it from rising again. Then, it would be stacked (wrapped in a shroud) atop the corpses of its family members, stretching back generations. This made burial towers a gruesome place to enter- cold, dripping stone chambers, with stacked rows of stiff corpses, some possibly frozen or mummified, others rotting, some collapsing in skeletal heaps.

Yughort dead were not buried with any goods. Their burial tokens and the valuables they carried to the afterlife were instead burned during the funeral ritual. However, Yughort burial towers were still sealed at almost all times, to prevent vengeful clan-foes from stealing the heads off corpses or disturbing the bones of a family’s ancestors and releasing angry spirits.

With the collapse of the Yughort and the rise of other steppe empires (most following the nomadic example of the Yughort and expanding upon the fragments of the cultures of the Yughort, Kigui, Tarxob, and other peoples), cultures, and tribes, the burial towers have become neglected.
The sealed door-blocks have mostly fallen away or been stolen; some of the masonry towers have collapsed or partially crumbled with age. Others are intact, but lie ominously open and doorless.
Given the fearsome memory of their dark ancestors, and the funereal nature of the towers, these structures are a source of no small fear and superstition among the peoples of the steppe, who avoid them as homes of restless dead and demons.

They are not wrong. The Yughort burial practices and methods show a curious terror of their dead rising again, and it seems that they were aware of some kind of racial curse, for the Yughort dead do not sleep. On certain pleromatic or stellar convergences, those dead within the burial towers sometimes rise again, wandering the burial yards and flitting from shadow to shadow, clutching at ancestral bones and squatting in darkness awaiting the coming of living blood and meat.