DESERTER (GLOG Minizine)

The DESERTER is one of the most-viewed posts on this blog, ever — an ex-soldier, one who ran away from it all, leaving their life as far behind them as they could get it, a class for Arnold K's Goblin Laws of Gaming. It drew on a few different inspirations, first and foremost that of G. R. Michael's Zouave; it remains among the most popular things I've ever posted, nearly three years on.

I've had thoughts about zines for a while. Self-published, small, DIY — it has a definite appeal, with zines remaining a common enough format for tabletop RPG "content", especially with Kickstarter's annual Zinequest. It's something I'd long wanted to try my hand at, in some fashion or another. A month or so ago (yes, that's how long it's taken me to write this) I decided to give it a go, at long last, using some old work of mine. I trawled through my backlog and landed on the Deserter as a good fit, especially with the original post's inclusion of possible backgrounds. I remembered a format I had seen used before, for SaltyGoo's Cradle of the Gods (a collection of deities), which takes only a single A4 page.

After a few hour's experimentation, playing around with design and layout and content (and some furhter trial and error with cutting and folding), I arrived at what I'm calling the final product, at least for now. Not sure if I'll ever see someone else use it, but I found it an enjoyable and enlightening experience, one that I may yet follow up on.

apologies for the questionable quality

You can find a PDF version here, or a PNG file here. I'm happy to answer any questions or queries, either about the process or about the zine itself; I've no idea, still, if this was the best way to go about it, but I can't pretend I'm not content to finally see some of my work in physical form, even if from a home printer.

 

1d30 Trinkets and Oddities for Adventurers of All Sizes

A trove of trinkets, an assortment of oddities, a bevy of baubles, a cache of curios. All ideas free to a good home—appropriate for an interesting additionial starting item, a peculiar prize stolen or won, rounding out a vendor's wares, or whatever other purpose one might see fit.

Mateusz Wiśniewski

1. A coin of the highest local denomination, with two heads.
2. A full-sized trombone, nonetheless able to fit into any pocket or container.
3. A frog, able to record and repeat messages up to one sentence in length; can only hold one at a time.
4. A jar, containing a very annoyed bat, refilled at any reputable swooprat breeder.
5. A double-ended flask—any liquid poured out one side comes out perfectly chilled, out the other scalding hot.
   
6. A pair of leather boots that make not a sound.
7. A dead snake, ~10 yards in length (works surprisingly well as a rope).
   
8. A startlingly convincing mask of the local mayor's (or other city official) face.
9. A taxidermy model of a small animal that probably doesn't exist.
10. A pair of dice enchanted to only ever land on 1 or 6.
11. A small hand drum that plays itself to match the beat of music around it.
12. A bottle of perfume that smells like its wearer's favourite scent, cranked up to 11.
13. A questionably authentic letter of authority from the local duke, painfully vague in what it permits.
14. A pocket mirror.
    
15. A music box, containing a famous hymn. Painfully loud.
16. A stolen satchel, bearing the official seal of the Courier's Guild.
17. A pack of gold-leaf playing cards, including jokers, blanks, and a double-back card.
18. A gold medal, its inscription long worn off.
19. A deeply heretical prayer book, proscribed in all lands of the Church.
20. An expensive locket, containing nothing but a daguerreotype of a frog.
21. An adjustable wrench, caked in rust.
22. A hat, always just a bit too large for any bearer.
23. A hot air balloon license, with the PC's name spelled slightly wrong.
24. A set of wind chimes that generate a small breeze when rung (warning label—"keep out of wind.")
25. A diary that writes about its owner's day by itself.
26. A clockwork mouse—makes noise, can travel ~10 yards before stopping, and must be wound before use.
    
27. An address book of folk-healers and local wise ones.
    
28. A wanted poster, depicting someone who looks just like you.
29. A pickled pinky finger, supposedly that of a famed saint.
30. A pair of glasses that don't improve the bearer's distance vision, but instead let them see regardless of conditions.

The Isle of Inishbradden

FIVE CENTURIES AGO, the Mists descended on Inishbradden for the first time; a cloak of ghostly grey, bathing the island in nightly luminescence. It appears each night in perfect time with the rising of the moon; few now dare enter its cold embrace, for fear of foul magic and the fae of folklore.

FIVE DECADES AGO, the current Countess of Ember ascended to the island's seat of power, her laws harsh and temper harsher. Never since has she appeared in public without her mask of iron, her work done only through ambassadors and intercessors.

FIVE YEARS AGO, ships stopped coming from the Mainland. Never a bustling trading post, the Isle is now cut off entirely from contact with the world beyond, with no sign of resupply from off the island in sight. No longer does the Crown seem to maintain any interest in keeping the Isle under its domain; not a single expedition from the island has returned since.

FIVE DAYS AGO, reports came from farms to the north of the mysterious disappearance of an entire village. Not a soul remains, animal or human—and the Countess's Guard are far from eager to investigate.

FIVE MINUTES AGO, you were roused from your slumber on the bare stone floor of your cell, and given an ultimatum: death, or freedom, in return for service rendered. The latter means trekking out into the Mist, to discover what really happened to that village

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image by me

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Each night on Inishbradden, every door on the Isle is bolted, every window firmly shuttered, people of every age safely indoors. With the moon comes the Mist, and with the mist creatures fit for no mortal eyes. Every family on the Isle claims heritage lasting centuries; as far as anyone remembers, the Countess's family has always ruled.

You are a prisoner. You violated the law of the land, and for it you pay the price; it seems that that price might well be greater than you ever imagined. You don't have a choice. You've got to do it, and pray to the Bladed Lord you'll make it through.

⁂

Black Alchemist:
You worked outside the law, operating without license and with secrecy assured. One of your clients ratted you out; you've had plenty of time to think about who it was.
Start with: a roll of bandage fashioned from an old gaol uniform, a small pouch of salt, iron, and blessed ashes
Perk: with a minute's close inspection, you have a 4-in-6 chance of correctly identifying any plant or mysterious substance. with ten, it becomes 6-in-6.

Drunkard:
You spent more nights at the pub than you did at home. The Day Watch finally decided to drag you in for nuisancy after some particularly well-placed public urination.
Start with: a smuggled flask of whiskey, impossible to find on your person unless you allow it
Perk: you have advantage on Saves against ill effects from consuming food or drink

Arsonist:
From an early age, you had a special fondness for starting fires. The Brotherhood of the Hallowed Sword caught you behind one of their chapels; your time in the Guards' custody has been a breeze in comparison.
Start with: an all-weather fire-starter, a burning desire to take out your anger on your surroundings
Perk: with an hour of preparation and access to suitably flammable materials, you can fashion an explosive device with a fuse of however long you wish

Charlatan:
You made your living running confidence games on the Isle's up-and-coming elites, offering investments and trade opportunities that never made themselves manifest. You defrauded the wrong person, and you've spent the time since plotting how you might escape your confines.
Start with: a "friend" in any town you visit, a trustworthy smile
Perk: you can affect any accent or demeanour you so desire; proper imitation demands proper study

Pickpocket:
You survived on deft fingers and quick thinking, until one day you couldn't think quite quick enough. You were expecting a severed hand; mist-catching is almost preferable to you.
Start with: a short piece of metal, fashioned into a miniature blade, a token to remember a loved one by
Perk: you can hide from view on your person anything that would fit in your palm, and you  perform sleight of hand well enough to impress and distract any layperson for a moment

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FIVEs format shamelessly stolen from the pre-eminent Lexi of A Blasted, Crated Land.

a snippet from the city

An excerpt of in-world writing from the setting of the City Who Slumbers Not. The first post provides some useful context.

By Tyler Edlin

“Invisible cults are perhaps the greatest oddity of the Fair City's endless religious movements. While most churches have some purpose to their worship, some powerful being, some idol, they reject this most wholeheartedly, favouring instead a great "Unseen God". Supposedly all-knowing and all-powerful, they revere a deity with no proof of their existence (and yes, most often 'their'). They consider even worship of the City herself to be blasphemy, despite the obvious importance of the urban cults to a functioning society. All individual claims to divinity are rejected; their great leaders are only ever mere 'prophets', interpreting the whispered words of some higher being. Doctrines vary wildly from sect to sect and branch to branch, with different texts and different prophets deemed holy by each. A common thread is the purported existence of some coming saviour, a person to unite all these cults under one banner and bring them out of the shadowed fringes of society; the nature of this saviour is rarely ever agreed upon.

One would wonder how such beliefs persist, especially with their 'omnipotent' god's persistent failures to protect their worshippers from zealots of other stripes.”

 —Onn the Manny Religiones and Belieffes off the Grate City, Tapsfrord Howe, transcribed by Bernard Cowall

d100 Food Found Foraging in the Bayou

oh to wander among the mangroves

The swamps and bayous of the Ontarachie are ancient—far older than New Alores, older still than any written record. The trees stood when people arrived, and they will stand long after people leave. Layer upon layer of decay and growth and renewal they lie, ever-flourishing on the corpse of the old. On these layers stand the villages of the fungus folk, the Archangel's cathedral, His Resplendent Majesty's great city; all the marvels of artifice made material by mundane hand. New Alores stands resplendent, yet beyond its borders lies something greater—something primal, something verdant. In the Ontarachie, everything is simply more—life abounds, teeming under every surface; its waterways and passages twist and turn, as gnarled and dense and crooked as the branches of any tree; there the lotus truly blooms.

1-10: Mundane mushrooms. On 10, truffles instead.

11-20: Onions. On 20, they're riddled with odd holes.
21-30: Thistles. On 30, they ooze a dark liquid.
31-40: Shrimp. On 40, they're bright blue.
41-50: Rabbit. On 50, it has wings.
51-60: Swooprat (bat). On 60, it bristles with spines.
61-70: Pitch-dark pecans. On 70, sickly-sweet walnuts instead.
71-75: Crawfish. Just crawfish.
76-80: Frog. On 80, it glows.
81-85: Small elk. On 85, it has a crab-like shell.
86-90: Catfish. On 90, it has horns.
91-95: Slugs or snails. On 95, they continue to squirm on the way down.
96-99: Wild pig. On 99, it's coated in spores.
100: Reroll. That, but giant.

An Eralou-related post. Expect more... eventually, perhaps.

13 Superstitions for Sci-Fi Space-Farers

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Sailors are notoriously superstitious; does it not stand to reason that the same would be true for those who sail the stars? Here's 13 folk beliefs among the travellers of wildspace, from the crews of the greatest star-galleons to the smallest dragonships, free to a good home.

1. Always take a leak before you launch.
2. Every ship should have a cat, and every crew should trust their cat.
3. Nep'Thulir, the Great Wurm Who Roams the Sea of Endless Stars.
4. The Gravitas, a famed ghost ship, forever damned to drift on the solar winds.
5. If you don't knock twice on your way out of the airlock, what comes back in won't be you.
6. Make sure any new ships are correctly blessed by a Priest of the Seventh Sun before their maiden voyage. 
7. No praying in the Warp, lest you attract a jump-beast.
8. The Void. A vast emptiness, devoid of a single star, meteor, or speck of dust. None pass through it.
9. Moon-madness; never stay too long in the orbit of a moon without a waystation. Nothing good awaits.
10. Always wake up the machine spirits through shanties, prayers, or music before you fly, lest your equipment fail.
11. Hold your breath while passing through a ship graveyard.
12. Never carry change in your right pocket.
13. Idle minds open the way for thought-feasters.

The Mists Upon the Moor (Patron: The Fae)

For he comes, the human child,

To the waters and the wild

With a faery, hand in hand,

For the world's more full of weeping than he can understand.
—W.B. Yeats, 'The Stolen Child'

A prince of the Autumn Court, a luchorpán, the Wailing Washerwoman; a denizen of the Otherworld, that half-forgotten realm of mists just beyond the borders of our own, the place below the barrows and beyond the Ironwoods. Inhuman all, with motivations as inscrutable as their nature, the Good Folk live at the fringes of the mortal realm, descendants of those who lost the war for Heaven yet escaped Damnation.

By Jakub Rozalski

Perk: Can see through darkness, and always sense the way to the nearest gateway to the Otherworld.
Drawback: People can tell there's something off about you. Normal mortals are always keen to distrust you.

The boon of your pact looks rightfully not of this world—deeply unnatural colours, just-off proportions, a scent it shouldn't have, &c.

Whether you fell asleep aside a barrow mound, danced too close to the Midsummer bonfire, or followed the fairy light into the heart of the forest, those sworn to one of the Fae are left... changed. The mark you bear takes the form of...
1. Eyelids that close sideways.
2. A forked tongue.
3. Pointed ears.
4. An uncanny stare.
5. Scarlet-red hair.
6. Six fingers on each hand.
7. An unnaturally sing-song voice.
8. A constant sickliness.
9. A permanent, too-wide smile.
10. Each of your eyes is a different, inhuman colour.

Mishaps:
1. 1d6 damage to you.
2. MD only return to your pool on a 1-2 until sunrise.
3. You lose all benefits of your boons for 1d6 rounds.
4. Illusions overtake your mind for 1d6 rounds on a failed save; you see things that aren't there, swiping at nonexistent enemies and dancing to a nonexistent tune.
5. You begin to scream for the next 1d6 rounds; on a 6, so does everyone who can hear you.
6. You lose your voice until you next rest.

Dooms:
1. Your eyes are now white as snow. You cannot keep a secret from those who know your name.
2. Your hair is now white as snow. You cannot disobey those who know your name.
3. Your skin is now white as snow. You feel an overwhelming *itch* to go back to the Otherworld. Home.

---

Another warlock patron; see this post for context, and either of these for further content. Bits taken from a variety of sources; deus ex parabola's Oberon and Titania most significantly.

STORM HERALD (GLOG Class)

You wield the primal powers of wind and sky, nature's fury shaped by your will. You are a tempest of righteous rage, a swirling storm of steel, adrenaline flowing through your veins like lightning.

A GLOG-ification of a 5e Barbarian subclass; Berserk stolen wholesale from deus ex parabola.

Start with: a medium or heavy weapon of your choice, medium armor, an impressive amount of scars, shredded pecs, an animal-hide cloak, an uncanny sense of coming weather 

A: Berserk, Sheltered from the Storm
B: Raging Storm
C: Whirlwind
D: Furious Storm

Berserk: You possess a pool of rage points, starting with 2 at A and gaining another at each level. You may expend a point at the beginning of combat to receive half damage from all sources for the duration, or when performing a feat of strength to automatically roll a 20. A crack of thunder accompanies each expenditure.

Regain a point whenever you eat a big meal and get a good night's rest, or when you go without food or rest to brood on your many enemies. While your pool is full, make a Save against flying off the handle whenever you face disrespect.

Sheltered from the Storm: Extreme environments have no bearing on you. You move unhindered through harsh weather, suffer not the effects of severe cold, and may breathe underwater. Your claps sound as loud as thunder, and your steps may shake the ground.

Raging Storm: Whenever you enter a rage, the air around you now ignites. You may call down a single lightning strike anywhere you can see, inflicting 1d8 damage to everything adjacent to that spot. Clouds gather overhead, wind begins to howl, nearby doors and windows slam open. The storm continues to rage as long as you do.

Whirlwind: Each round, you may make an extra attack for free; alternately, you may forgo all other attacks in a round to strike each opponent you could reasonably hit a single time.

Furious Storm: You have become one with the spirit of the storms. Now, whenever you enter a rage, your lightning strikes instead deal 2d8 damage to those effected. While raging, all of your attacks deal an extra 1d6 to those they hit. Your wounds have no impact on you until the fighting's over.

Dave's Motel and Diner (Location)

A location, inspired by chloe's BUCKETS OF BLOOD setting.

the vibe

DAVE'S MOTEL AND DINER is everywhere. every interstate turnoff, every rural town just barely clinging to its last vestiges of life, every big city in the middle of the desert. the signage is old, the paintwork chipped. the tables are sticky, the floor stained. the food all tastes the same. no matter where you're coming from or where you're headed, you can stop off at dave's, so long as you know where to look. dave's is never full—why would it be? you don't go there if you have a choice. the waitresses are polite, though never speak more than a sentence or two at once. their shadows always seem to draw long behind them, no matter the time of day outside. there's a rusted gas pump out front, an eighteen-wheeler parked around the side. never more than one. the décor blurs together; all pastel blue and once-clean whites, grimy chrome and crappy neon signs. the bathrooms never seem to be cleaned, always bearing the stench of a corpse. there's always someone at the counter, nursing a cup of coffee. they never seem to leave. the rooms are bare; a steel bedframe and lumpy mattress, peeling wallpaper left unadorned. 

no matter where you came from in the world outside, things always seem the same. the same design inside, the same atmosphere of unwelcome. you've never seen anyone enter ahead of you. the few times you've spoken to other clientele they've always claimed to have come in from somewhere else. sometimes, even, you find yourself thinking as you leave you've come out somewhere completely different from where you came in. that doesn't make any sense though. if you didn't know any better, you could swear every dave's was the exact same place.

---

d6 reasons Dave's might be the way it is:

1. the original location was built atop portal to Hell. the souls of all employees remain trapped within.
2. it's the Platonic archetype of a motel-diner, filling in the gaps where things should be but aren't.
3. it's a meeting point for time-travellers, warping reality around itself.
4. it's the setting of a classic horror novel that has permeated the collective unconscious—every time you enter the diner, you enter the book.
5. the diner is Hell—for its employees. part of Stan's latest outreach program. 
6. "Dave's" is, in fact, a prison for the pretender Bacchus, crafted centuries ago by Dionysus as a dreary hell for the false god of wine. he wanders from diner to diner in torturous sobriety, finding only places devoid of revelry. the diner's nature being exploitable by mortals is entirely incidental.

---

regardless of where you enter Dave's, the diner within is always the same place. no one knows quite why or how—no one willing to tell, at least—but you can always find your way to Dave's if you need to. the clientele are eclectic; it's hard to end up there if there isn't something odd about you. it's a waystop for weary wizards, a safe space from the Feds; a useful meeting point, for those inclined. enjoy! (entries in the above table stolen from, in order, chloe, purplecthulu, Everythings, chloe, Sylvanas_iii, and Ro-Man!)

Unwaking from the Dream of Life (The Lich)

Why should a man desire in any way
To vary from the kindly race of men
Or pass beyond the goal of ordinance
Where all should pause, as is most meet for all?
—Alfred Tennyson, 'Tithonus'

A mage, great in power and hubris both, who has overcome Death itself. Trading form for immortality, liches give up their bodies, binding their mind instead to their demesne—a fortress-city, a citadel of bone, perhaps an ancient tower—saving themselves from the tides of time, but binding themselves in place for eternity. Thus, they rely on agents to act on their behalf beyond the borders of their demesne.

By Blake Rottinger

Perk: You speak the tongue of spirits. Passing on decays the mind; corpses often ramble or go on cryptically, and rarely can they recall their deaths.
Drawback: You do not heal naturally. Instead of a ration, you must consume the flesh of a freshly slain creature; broken bones must be replaced with ones scavenged from elsewhere.

The boon of your pact looks as something pulled from a long-forgotten tomb—it might be composed of bone or dark stone, it may look worn with age, it may bear a permanent layer of dust, &c.

All who are sworn to a lich are... twisted, in some way, by their bond. The mark you bear takes the form of...
1. Ghost-pale skin.
2. An ever-present chill.
3. Entirely black eyes.
4. A constant gauntness.
5. A pungent scent of rotting flesh.
6. Permanent bloating.
7. Teeth eerily long and yellow as old bone
8. A different voice, much older than your face.
9. Nothing humans can sense, but animals find you... wrong.
10. One eye that never ceases weeping.

Mishaps:
1. 1d6 damage to you.
2. MD only return to your pool on a 1-2 until sunrise.
3. Random mutation for 1d6 rounds, then make a Save. Permanent if you fail.
4. For the next [sum]*10 minutes, you may see into the realm of spirits and magic directly, but the mortal world is totally dark to you (stolen from Lexi). 
5. 1d6 nearby corpses raise as revenants, eager to attack.
6. Save against your body rejecting your spirit. If failed, your spirit shoots out of you as a ghost - choose which one you're controlling, the other causes mayhem. The ghost can do spells and wizardy shit, the body can and will break things and strangle people (courtesy of Locheil).

Dooms:
1. You die. Your spirit is flung from your body until the next sunrise, and from now on you are as any other undead—your form will begin to rot, and you gain another feature from the d10 table above.
2. As above, but your body's rotting progress more rapidly while you are outside it. Disadvantage on initiative rolls and any checks related to reflexes or speed from now on.
3. As above, but your spirit is cast out forever. Your passing tears a hole in the Veil. 4d8 spirits leak through, possessing nearby corpses where available and hellbent on causing harm.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

A continuation from some earlier posts.

d6 Doors

Maybe there is more of the magical

in the idea of a door than in the door

itself. It’s always a matter of going

through into something else.

—Marge Piercy

1. A handmade wooden wardrobe, carved lions for feet and a leaflike pattern inscribed on the doors. A maker's mark was once visible, but has worn away with age. Currently located in the private collection of an eccentric antiques dealer.

2. A ruined arch of time-weathered stone, cloaked in moss. It lies secret in the forests of the north, in a clearing all its own among the trees. It bears no sign of having been part of another construction, and cannot be found by those who seek it without having visited it before.

3. A door under the stairs of an unassuming suburban home—things stored in it have a habit of disappearing, and that which is found is often not what was left. The owners take little note of this; a collective refusal to acknowledge the truth has convinced the family that uncle Darrell died in a car crash.

By Alexandra Petruk

4. A mirror, currently stored in the bowels of a cathedral. Rectangular in shape and tall in size, its gilt frame depicts dozens of animals and plants. Its inscription, a rhyming couplet in the tongue of snakes and foxes, advises all those who enter to "keep one eye in front and one behind". 

5. A cave, hidden behind a crashing waterfall. Stalactites dot the ceiling, and the air is heavy with the rank scent of mildew. Fog drifts out from some hidden source deep within the cave; those who exit discover themselves somewhere different, most often dizzy or confused.

6. A barrow mound containing the bones of a nine-foot tall giant, buried alongside a sword half his height and a dozen desiccated rats. It can only be properly entered at auspicious times of year—solstice or equinox most particularly.

May You Be Spared G_d's Judgment (GLOG Classis: Cleric)

Priest. Ardent. Wise One. Monk. Known by many names across many lands, you are one favoured by the G_ds, blessed with some small semblance of their power. You may be part of an organised faith, a devout member of a once-mighty cult, a lone pilgrim on a holy path entirely your own, or any number of things; as long as you work in service to some G_d, hold some sway with Those Of HEAVEN, this may be the class for you.

By Silvia Meiliani

Starting items: signifier of your faith (embroidered robes, porcelain mask, tattoo, &c.), a walking staff, a small weapon, a prayer scroll or sacred text
Skills: religion and (1d3) public speaking, history, or commerce

A: Voice of the G_ds: Common folk recognise you as a person of religious disposition. People are keen to take any advice, counsel, or explanations you offer them, and will likely offer temporary sanctuary or a meal in return for any favours. Oaths said afore you are considered binding, and you may oversee religious ceremonies of many sorts.

A: Augury: You may perform a ritual—as outlined in your particular domain's description—to discern some truth about the world. Roll [template]d6 each time you do, asking up to [highest] questions. Answers given take the form of 'Yes', 'No', or 'Unclear'; if the question relates to your domain, instead you may receive 'Certainly', 'Possibly', 'Unclear', 'Consider Further', 'Unlikely', or 'Impossible'.

B: Reveal Deception: You can sense if those you meet are opposed to the interests of your domain, and dispel illusions & invisibility with a minute of concentration. You may spend ten minutes to ward a site against intruders until sunrise; any unwanted entry immediately alerts you.

B: Proselytize: Whenever you preach in a crowded place, you draw an audience including [template]d6 believers; afterwards, you may hire up to [template] of them on as hirelings to follow you. All believers—those paid and those not—will treat you with reverence and perform small domain-appropriate favours as you instruct, provided they don't aren't put in jeopardy as a result. 

C: Turn: You may force those opposed to you and your domain to test morale; on a failure, they will cower before you or flee in terror. If they succeed, you cannot turn them again until the next day.

D: Sect: You may start a splinter of your own. Make sure to note some distinguishing tenets or heresies, preferably ones your character already holds to. Hirelings you choose to ordain count as CHOSEN of the first level, with your title passing to one of them when you die.

G_ds Great and Small

1. Idona, the Watcher, They Who Birthed Nations
Domains: Time, Life, Death
The First God, from whom came all and unto shall all return. They were among those who raised the Mountain from the depths of Chaos, but refused to rule from the Throne of Heaven. Burial is but a return to their embrace, for the devoted. Patron of midwives, gravediggers, and all those who care deeply for others.

Starting items: Your holy symbol is a golden circle hanging from a chain necklace, your weapon a half-moon sickle. In addition, you carry a copy of Alsther Wisborne's Alamanac of Common Kyures and Ailments and a roll of bandages.
Augury: You know the True Tongue of ancient things; you may spend an hour in contemplative silence to consult with the souls of rock and stone, those mighty forests that stood long before mankind lay foot in these lands.
Benefit: You have knowledge of many non-magical diseases, as well as simple cures for them. You may craft poultices from common herbs, and have enough training to lessen the long-term effects of a wound provided you get to it within a day.
Drawback: When an innocent in need requests your help, your oaths oblige you to help; doubly so if it concerns a loved one of theirs. As a rule of thumb, an "innocent" is anyone with less than 1 HD who isn't trying to start a fight.

2. Tadhros, the Burning One, She Who Scattered the Stars
Domains: Fire, Light, Violence
The sun, by whose light the world may live. A thousand times she led her armies against the forces of endless night, a thousand times mankind saved by their shed blood. Only once her armies' swords laid to rest, a thousand sacrifices made at once to banish the dark forever more, their bodies scattered now across the blackness.

Starting items: Your holy symbol is a robe emblazoned with a white sun, your weapon a short sword. In addition, you carry three sticks of heavily-scented incense.
Augury: Light a fire, burning something of value—1gp or sentimental memory per question—and stare at its heart. It will burn itself out in ten times [dice] minutes; you may derive answers from the ashes.
Benefit: You may snap your fingers at any time to create a spark as that of a flint and steel.
Drawback: You are forbidden to put out a fire before it burns itself out naturally. All food you eat must be cooked.

3. Solgrannis, Plague-Bearer, Who Lurks in the Night
Domains: Disease, Squalor, Darkness
Be it demon or g_d true, all who know his name know it something to be feared. Uncountable tales of its nature are told across lands near and far, by drunkards in tavern corners and old wives at the village well, tales of a great shambling blackness, a lurching corpse crowned in blood, a foul beast and devourer of children. Each bears some facet of its truth, each is wildly wrong. As the dark itself, he resists comprehension, an ever-shifting form lying just beyond reach.

Starting items: Your holy symbol is a porcelain mask, the face of a plague-bearer transfixed in pain, your weapon a ritual dagger. In addition, you carry a single dose of strongly hallucinogenic fungus and are followed by a raven.
Augury: Slit the belly of a freshly-deceased corpse and make a reading of its internal parts. A hare provides enough entrails for a single question, a human around three.
Benefit: You speak the tongue of all the foul things that prowl in shadow—you may hold conversation with rats, mice, and scavenging beasts as though fluent, though they may not be inclined to listen to you.
Drawback: You posses a permanent whooping cough. People may react as they would to any other sick person, even while the recognise you for a holy person.

Don't Forget the Fine Print

I burned my life, that I might find

A passion wholly of the mind,

Thought divorced from eye and bone,

Ecstasy come to breath alone.

I broke my life, to seek relief

From the flawed light of love and grief.
—Louise Bogan, 'The Alchemist'

A follow-up to an earlier post of mine; another patron, another pact.

Patron: The Deep

Be it a Great Beast of the Sea, a mighty kraken, or a primordial of the Elemental Ocean, you have bound yourself to some ancient being from creation’s first days. For some masters, you may act as their eyes and ears on the realm of land, advancing whatever esoteric goals they seek; for others, your "master" may be so alien as to be unaware of your mere existence.

By Elisa Serio

Perk: You can communicate with creatures of the water as fluent, and move through marshes and bogs unhindered.
Drawback: You cannot drink fresh water; derivatives thereof—tea, beer, &c—are fine.

The boon of your pact looks as it should for an object of the oceans—dark blues and greys, seaweed dangling off of it, a thin layer of slime, &c.

Those who swear themselves to a being of the Deep carry a sign of their pact. The mark you bear takes the form of...

1. Webbed hands and feet.

2. Translucent, mildly luminescent skin.

3. Fish-like scales.

4. Visible gills.

5. Constantly damp & oily skin.

6. No eyelids.

7. Unnaturally pointed teeth.

8. Unusual pallor.

9. Bulbous swim bladders.

10. Spit solidifies slowly after contact with air.

Mishaps:
1. 1d6 damage to you.
2. MD only return to your pool on a 1-2 until sunrise.
3. Random marine-related mutation for 1d6 rounds. Permanent on a failed save.
4. Lungs temporarily fill with water for 1d6 rounds. Can't speak or cast spells.
5. Grow incredibly thirsty. Must consume a ration at next rest, and receive no healing from it.
6. Vomit 1d100 litres of seawater.

Dooms:

1. Body empties of moisture for 24 hours. Inventory filled with exhaustion, and can't cast spells.

2. As above, but for a week.

3. Tide rises where you stand. 1d20+5 assorted merfolk, water elementals, and bloated corpses appear to drag you out to sea. Fend them off or die.

Pact: The Tome

Where other practitioners take paths of simple-minded violence or request vain gifts, your boon of choice was knowledge—power in its purest form, at least in your eyes. You need not runes nor wands nor incense; you are a spellcaster, capable of imposing your whims on the world as you desire.

A: Spellcasting: You may expend MD to change the world around you, wielding the powers described below. For each Working you perform past the first, add an additional Instability Die—they do not contribute to [dice] or [sum], but do count for the invocation of Mishaps and Dooms. This count resets each sunrise, though a warlock may voluntarily roll extra ID to further empower their workings.

Harm: Deal [sum]+[dice] damage to any target you can see; creatures may Save to negate. This takes a pact-appropriate form—a blast of fire, a sudden gust of lacerating wind, the howling screams of damned souls.
+1 ID for each other Working you've done since sunrise
+1 ID for each additional target

Alter: Make a declarative statement about any target you can see you can see. That statement becomes true for [dice] rounds. It cannot cause damage (Harm), create a new object (Create), or move the target; creatures may Save to negate.
+1 ID for each other Working you've done since sunrise
+1 ID for each additional target
+1 ID to affect an area the size of a wagon
+2 ID to affect an area the size of a cottage
+3 ID to affect an area the size of a village
+1 ID to make the effect last [dice] minutes
+2 ID to make the effect last [dice] hours
+3 ID to make the effect last [dice] days

Create: Create a creature or object. It lasts for [dice] rounds, and begins person-sized or smaller (with 2 or fewer HD if a creature). Creatures created cannot inflict damage and objects may not inflict magic damage or create permanent effects, but may be magical—you can make a flying carpet, but a healing potion will only last the duration listed. A regular sword, not BITTER MARTYR WOE, a well-learned heavy langmesser matte, with a silvered edge that cuts through fire.
+1 ID for each other Working you've done since sunrise
+1 ID for each additional creation
+2 ID to increase the created creature's HD by 4
+1 ID to create an object the size of a wagon
+2 ID to create an object the size of a cottage
+3 ID to create an object the size of a village
+1 ID to create a magical or otherwise notably strange object
+1 ID to make the creation last [dice] minutes
+2 ID to make the creation last [dice] hours
+3 ID to make the creation last [dice] days

A: Ancient Tongues: When you come across a fragment of some long-forgotten language—scrawled on a ruin, carved into a talisman, &c.—you have a [templates]-in-6 chance of understanding it. Not the entire language, but enough for that piece.

B: Intuitive Understanding: You can read any text—fine print included—in the time it's taken you to read this description.

C: Accurate Insight: By staring very deeply into someone's eyes, you may read their thoughts, quite literally printed on their pupils; it's there for everyone, but the text is very small (credit to Archon).

D: Spell-Theft: You may cast any spell you come across in another magic-user's grimoire or the mind of one you've killed without rolling or incurring ID. Your Mishaps and Dooms may still apply; spells cast this way once are rendered unusable.

---

The Magic-User to the Blade's Fighting-Man. Thanks to Sundered for the name; here's the patron you asked for in return. Feedback appreciated, &c., &c.—more patrons and pacts to come.

DISCIPLE OF THE FORGE (GLOG Class)

You are a devotee of Caelis, the Smith, endowed with a fragment of his power either through intent or accident—you may have drawn his attention, forged a pact, or simply swallowed an odd bit of metal. You do not necessarily worship him—indeed, many have turned their back on the G_ds of old—but you follow in his path nonetheless.

By Raymond Swanland

Starting items: smith's tools and leathers, a sacred icon, a medium weapon, a surprisingly portable anvil, 3d4 bits of thumb-sized metallic junk
Skills: metalwork and (1d6): appraisal, architecture, percussive maintenance, bartering, clockwork, scripture

A: Blessings of the Forge, Reshape
B: Artisan's Gifts, Kindling
C: Steel-Saint
D: Reforged

Blessings of the Forge: You may infuse up to [template] items with magic at any given time; the process takes an hour of constant prayer recital. Blessed objects never rust nor tarnish, cannot be damaged by mundane means, and count as magical.

Reshape: You can mold metal in your hands with the ease and accuracy of soft clay. Anything crafted this way is liable to fall apart after 1d6 uses.

Artisan's Gifts: You may replicate any object in metal perfectly, provided you have the original to hand. The process takes minutes for simple things smaller than your hands, hours for something more complex or about as large as an arm, and days or weeks for the largest or most intricate work.

Kindling: You can rub any two flammable objects together in between your palms to set both alight, at no immediate risk to yourself.

Steel-Saint: Damage dealt by blessed objects scalds as boiling water. You may transmute earthen materials (soil, rocks, bone, so on) into workable metal—a fist-sized quantity in a minute, a light sword's worth in 10, &c. It is weaker than natural ore, but just as usable for your purposes.

Reforged: The flame has altered your soul and body alike. Mundane fire is no longer dangerous to you, and objects bearing your blessing strike with all the force of a falling anvil.

---

𝟭𝟯 𝗔𝗡𝗗 in the earliest days, when Man was but an idle thought, the G_ds did wrest from Chaos the reigns of creation, and the Void they did fill. The Mountain was raised by the Daughters of the Earth—Keldat, Maken, Isla, Tarn all—and at its peak was raised the City now called Heaven, that place of bounty now marred by War. And in that City were made wonders, true works of the divine, beyond the design of the finest craftsmen and beyond the mind of the highest King of Kings among all on earthen soil, each a miracle in its own. 

𝟭𝟵 𝗔𝗟𝗦𝗢 among their number, those architects of the Sacred City, stood the Firesoul, the Smith, He Who is Called by the Heat of the Forge; that divinity known in the True Tongue by the clang of the hammer; in the old speech of the first peoples, Klissian; and in the common tongue of those born in the wreckage of the Scattering, Caelis.

𝟮𝟬 𝗛𝗘 shaped the fruit of the earth as none other, not merely reshaping it but forming it anew in whole, creating new substance from the ancient and molding it as he pleased. By him were forged the weapons that slayed Those Who Came Before, before the birth of the Mountain and its Heaven—the blade of Nazgas, the powerful one swung about the head of Tel'turon, the mighty bow lost-to-the-ages—and within the City his works were many. Grand palaces of iron, mighty towers as tall as the Mountain itself, new constructions, unlike any come before; to list his works would be as futile as the singing of his endless praises.
—Excerpts from Lebor Breth-Sleev ags a Bhailid, The Book of the Birth of the Mountain and its City, translated in the year 724 by Brother Benedach

---

A GLOG-ish spin on one of the more tolerable 5e subclasses, albeit with a number of creative liberties. Kindling stolen from deus ex parbaked's Manufactory. All feedback appreciated, especially on the ~faithposting~ at the end.

Written in Blood

Warlocks. Foul creatures, born of human stock and bound to some higher being for power. Each is defined first by patron and second by pact; the entity to which they owe their power, and the gifts they receive.

You and your compatriots are some such wretched beings.

Michael Maier

At each level, warlocks gain a Magic Die, a d6 representative of some shred of power or minor favour owed to you. Some pact abilities give you the opportunity to roll them. [dice] is the amount of MD you commit, [sum] is the total of all results. MD are expended on a 4-6; dice that roll lower return to your pool to be rolled anew. Whenever you roll doubles, consult your patron's Mishap table; the corresponding result occurs (double sixes result in the sixth entry, double threes the third, &c.).

All warlocks are fated to meet their demise. Whenever a Mishap occurs, note it. Whenever you make the third strike, a Doom is invoked—some greater catastrophe. As with Mishaps, the exact consequences depend on your choice of patron. Few, if any, survive their third Doom.

Patron: The Fiend

Hob. Old Scratch. The Devil. The Fiend bears a thousand names in as many different tongues, but all refer to the same being—the lord themself of the lower planes. They seek to bring out the worst in humanity; violent, impulsive, brutal. All in their thrall embody these virtues, in one way or another.

Michal Kváč

Perk: Can summon a flame as that of a candle with a snap of the fingers.
Drawback: Sacred objects burn to touch.

The boon of your pact—book, sword, or servant—looks as an object of the Hells should. Earthen or crimson tones, a charred scent, wicked spikes, infernal inscriptions.

To forge a pact with the Fiend—whether you sought it out, or it was brought to you—one must take a dip in the fires of the underworld. Few pilgrims make it through unscathed. The mark you bear takes the form of...
1. A marred face.
2. Eyes turned an unnatural shade.
3. A pair of horns jutting from your forehead.
4. An arm-length tail.
5. A shadow twice the length it should be.
6. Breath that reeks of brimstone.
7. A network of scars across your forearms.
8. Bodily fluids (blood, sweat, tears, &c) the deepest black.
9. Nails as sharp as claws.
10. An extra set of canine teeth, jutting out of your mouth.

Mishaps:
1. 1d6 damage to you.
2. MD only return to your pool on a 1-2 for 24 hours.
3. You lose all benefits of your boons for 1d6 rounds.
4. Random hellish mutation for 1d6 rounds. Save with advantage or permanent.
5. Fire spurts out from you. 1d6 damage to you and everything within 2 metres.
6. An imp pops into existence. They seek to cause maximum mischief for those around them until killed and can summon minor illusions—cause flames to flicker or dim, slam open doors shut, call forth harmless tremors, &c.

Dooms:
1. Die for a day. Your soul is taken temporarily to the Underworld, for fiends to do with as they please.
2. As 1, but for the person you care about most in the world.
3. As 1, but for eternity.

Pact: The Blade

You have chosen a path of violence. Your boon takes the form of a weapon of your choice—dagger, sword, axe, &c. You are as skilled with it as any other combatant, and are bound to the blade as much as it is to you.

Gilles Ketting

A: Boon of the Blade: You have taken a weapon of your choice as the object of your pact. It counts as magical, its appearance influenced by your choice of patron. It vanishes into nothing when separated from your or at a moment's thought, and you can summon it from the aether with 10 heartbeats of concentration (a single action in combat).

A: Bloodthirsty Edge: Whenever you make a successful attack against an enemy, you may roll any amount of MD. If you choose to do so, the attack inflicts an extra [dice] damage. Upgrades to [sum] at C.

B: Deft Hands: You've grown more comfortable in your weapon. You never fail to do things with it other than attack—disarming enemies, tripping foes, striking them with the flat of the blade, &c.

C: Indomitable: Your body has improved, infused further with magic. You can roll MD when making saves to add an additional [sum] to your result; whenever you step out of the fight for a moment to take a breather, you may regain [dice] health rather than the norm. 

D: Flurry of Steel: You have been gifted a preternatural speed in combat. You can make two attacks with your pact weapon on each of your turns without penalty. 

---

The beginnings of a potential hack, of sorts, replacing the 'race'/class dichotomy with patron and pact. Hopefully makes a degree of sense. Feedback of all forms appreciated—as are riffs on the same concept.

PALADIN OF THE COMMON FOLK (GLOG Class)

You are a PALADIN OF THE COMMON FOLK; you serve not the corrupt G_ds of the Church, instead following the True Ways—the ancient beliefs of Man when they first arrived from the Old Countries. Once an everyday person-of-faith, you've chosen to devote your life to religion and take up the discarded vows once more.

DISGUSTING.
By Simon Fetscher

Start with: medium armor, a peasant's tool of your choice (give it a name—CAST OUT THE NIGHT, for example), healer's pack, holy symbol, oaths of charity and protection, venomous hatred towards established religion

Skills (1d6): farming, smithing, fishing, carpentry, butchery, baking

A: Humble Weaponry, the Ancient Tongues

B: Blessed Rites, +1 MD

C: Stand Tall, Stay Fast, Sacred Senses, +1 MD

D: Smite Those Who Oppose, +1 MD

Humble Weaponry: You shun the greed and extravagance of "normal" priests and paladins; rather than plate or blade, you wear simple armor and wield the implements of your former craft. You can use tools as medium weapons. They count as holy objects.

The Ancient Tongues: As a disciple of the True Ways, you worship the rightful G-ds of this world; you were never one for the high-above "angels" those papist heretics claim to follow. You can speak to the spirits of nature itself, the idols of your devotion; older spirits see less, but know more. Not all wish to share.

Roll 1d6 now, and gain another language each time you receive a PALADIN template:

1. Stone

2. Soil

3. Water

4. Plants

5. Fire

6. Rot

Blessed Rites: You have a single Miracle Die, which is very similar to—but not necessarily interchangeable with—a Magic Die, representative of your favour with the spirits. You receive an additional one each time you take a PALADIN template, and can spend them to heal an ally you can touch for [sum] or give a nearby party member +[highest] to-hit for a round.

Stand Tall, Stay Fast: A beacon in the field, allies look to you in times of terror. You may choose to make save rolls before the rest of your party. Whenever you succeed, everyone else makes their checks with advantage.

Sacred Senses: You have been blessed with the ability to smell it; demons, devils, angels, and devotees of the false G_ds. It is unlike any other smell, though it pervades it touches. Listening to your nose could get you far.

Smite Those Who Oppose: Your tools' damage now counts as magical. They speak to you in mutters and whispers, always wishing to be used. When you make a successful attack roll, you can expend any amount of MD to deal an additional [sum] damage to your target.

Identity Theft Is Fine And Good, Actually (GLOG Class: Face-Stealer)

You are a face-stealer. You may have been human once upon a time, but no longer. You step in and out of identities as another might suits; whatever semblance of “true self” once existed is now all but worn away, corroded by the ceaseless tide of change.

By Sam Flegal

Start with: two glass daggers, reversible clothing (a suit on one side, "scruffy" clothes on the other), a bowler hat, no memory of your original identity

Skills (1d4): forgery, tailoring, cat-burglary, juggling

A: Swap Selves, Right Where You Belong
B: Residual Recollection, Unnerving Stealth
C: Memory Theft
D: Persona Pool

Swap Selves: You can spend 10 minutes to copy other people's features, replacing the current set you have. Those aware of what you're trying to do can resist, perhaps by making funny faces. 

Right Where You Belong: You're an expert at blending in, exuding an air of confidence in your actions. People will always believe you’re in the right place, until they get a reason not to.

Residual Recollection: You don't just take faces. When you copy features, the last day’s worth of memories come along with them. 

Unnatural Stealth: Your footsteps are silent, no matter what surface you walk on.

Memory Theft: When you copy a person’s features, you can ask the Referee up to three questions about things that person might know. They must answer honestly.

Persona Pool: You can keep up to three sets of features memorised, swapping between them with 10 minutes of conscious effort. You can loan these features out to others, for up to a day at a time; recipients must be willing to receive them.

JAZZ ENSEMBLE (GLOG Class)

Some people are content with playing as a single musician; a bard, a chanter, a vielleur, &c. Not you, however. You're an entire band.

Idea shamelessly stolen from deus ex parabola and Walfalcon, mechanics mostly from Skerples' Many Goblins, Lexi's Bard, and Xenophon's Chanter.

By Leonid Afremov

You get +2 HP for each Jazz Ensemble template you have.

Start with: far too many trumpets, saxophones, pianos, trombones, clarinets, banjos, and basses, sharp suits for every band member, at least one drum set

Skills: street smarts, musical history, freestyle performing

A: Shared Totals, Musical Talent, +1 MD
B: Magic of Music, +1 Soloist, +1 MD
C: +1 Song, +1 Soloist, +1 MD
D: +1 Song, +1 Soloist, +1 MD

Shared Totals: The Jazz Ensemble share HP, as though a single character. Every point of damage causes a single band member to die in a background sort of way, likely with a musical goodbye. Area-of-effect attacks, abilities, and traps only affect them once. Save-or-Die effects instead cause a loss of 1 HP. Most single-target spells (as well as mutations) instead effect all band members. Together, you only consume the ration of one person.

If the Ensemble gets brought to 0 HP, they lie about, wounded, moaning, and unwilling to do anything until healed. If hit below 0 HP, they all die, save soloists.

The Ensemble has 5 total inventory slots. They can carry more, but only temporarily. Instruments and armour do not occupy inventory slots. If you need to determine just how many members the Ensemble currently has, roll 1d12+6. This number can change across rounds, turns, or encounters. Whenever possible, they occupy 20' square, spreading themselves as needed. They're rarely keen to do work, but count as 10 workers for the first hour of labour, 5 beyond that, and stop after the third.

Musical Talent: You're a very good bunch of performers. Songs you play are likely to catch people's attention, with a [templates]-in-6 chance of a group forming around you in a crowded space. The Ensemble has a pool of Music Dice, equal to [templates] plus one. You can spend one  while playing a mundane song to evoke a powerful but nonspecific emotion in your listeners — amorous, but not towards specific people; very sad, but not suicidal.

Magic of Music: You can cast spells by spending MD and performing music, as the Chanter's Spellcasting feature and a character of one level lower. Most of them take place over a duration, and you can only maintain one Song at a time. You learn spells and suffer Mishaps the same way.

Soloists: Some members have made a name for themselves. Once each encounter, for one round, they can do something different from the rest of the Ensemble. At the end of that round, they rejoin the rest. Give them a name and a snappy description. If the Ensemble dies, each Soloist becomes a level 1 character with 2 HP and the A template of another musical class of your choosing. If they come across more musicians they could potentially convince to join their band, they form a new level 2 Ensemble. Only one Soloist survives the process.

Zapgun On Your Shoulder (Zouave Expansion Pack: Space)

Inspired by some discussion had on the OSR discord, I decided to write some stuff for deus ex parabola's Zouave, expanding it into a sci-fi setting. Many thanks (and apolgies) to the folks of #glog-spillway, especially Vayra & deus. Features 12 Tall Tales, skills and starting equipment, and a fitting version of Respect. Not a full class, view the original Zouave post for the other important bits. Feedback is very much appreciated.

By Diego Gisbert Llorens

You are a SPACE-ZOUAVE, a light infantry soldier specialising in ambush, scouting and long periods in the field. You aren't a rich entrepreneur, but you're no earther either. You offered yourself up to join the Legion and protect your homeworld, to fight back. You used hand-me-down gear, trained in strategy, made our way through the military, became a veteran fighter, overcame the odds with just your zapgun and a knife; and then the war ended, and all was well.

Skills (1d3): xenobotany, field surgery, engineering

Start with: a pompous and outdated uniform (as leather), a vibroknife (as a dagger), a laser-rifle (2d6 damage, minute to reload, fires with disadvantage if you moved last turn, -1 to-hit for every 10 feet between you and the target), old gravity boots, a quality knapsack

Astronomical Exploits:

Some setting-appropriate mostly-true things you say did before you became an adventurer. Roll 1d12 to pick one at random; if you get the same result twice, go for the one above or below it, or re-roll.

1. Captured by a Tlal’ek, Escaped. Once, you were caught in the grasp of a ferocious beast. It trapped you in its lair (or so you claim) and left you there — likely its next meal. As it slept, you fled — getting away with your life, though without your favourite boots.

If someone grappling you is distracted, even just for a moment, you can slip free. You have a 4-in-6 chance of escaping mundane bindings like ropes, chains or trapped limbs, and a 2-in-6 chance for more advanced ones such as space manacles or an aetheric chokehold.

2. Been Everywhere Around. At various points in your life, you've visited each and every back-water planet in the galaxy — and been chased off of more than your fair share of them too. They tend not to like it when you insult the local delicacies or their big hats; you know from experience.

You can read signs and decipher maps in any language, and always know how to ask for directions.

3. Traversed the Frozen Wastes. You crossed the barren ice sheets of one of the coldest planets known to space-zouave, nearly dying several times — crevasses, dehydration, you name it — but you managed to hold out, surviving a snowstorm in the carcass of a whale-worm. Other members of your troop were not so lucky. 

You never suffer the ill effects of the cold, and can always find shelter from extreme weather given 5 minutes. 

4. Through the Endless Asteroid Field and Out the Other Side. Ambushed and with old enemies hot on your tail, you decided to try and shortcut through an asteroid belt. Old Bertha (a freighter you’ve since gambled away, and miss terribly) got you through with a few dents, though some of your comrades weren’t so lucky. 

You, your party, and your ship can travel impassable terrain as though it was rough. 

5. Made the Atbanraat Run in 24 Parsecs. You made it from one end of the galaxy's most important shipping (and most infamous smuggling) route in record time, faster than any other pilot before you. It involved a slingshot and some less-than-legal fuel , but you wear the badge with pride. 

If you wish, you can get to any destination in half the time, but your ship or vehicle will always need 1d100*10 credit's repairs before it can be driven, rode, or flown again. 

6. Smuggled a Saquab Squid. You managed to sneak a large, endangered animal through an imperial blockade of a rebel planet. Even after a thorough search, the guardsmen walked right past it. You received quite a handsome reward for that one. 

If you or your vehicle are searched, you can choose something to not be found, regardless of its size or actual hiding capability. 

7. Took Out a Dreadnought. In an attack on an imperial battleship, your entire company was killed by a batch of unexpected reinforcements, save you. In a valiant last stand, you managed to fire at just the right spot — surprisingly easy, really. Your compatriots didn’t survive to tell the tale, but they surely live on in your memories. 

If you make a successful attack roll, you can choose exactly where your blow hits. 

8. Rode Too Close to a Black Hole. While travelling through the vacuum of space, you got yourself stuck somewhere near a black hole, the ultra-dense corpse of a once-bright star. You were dragged into orbit for what felt like decades — at least 1d6*10 years off your life. 

People will always assume things you tell them are true, unless given a compelling reason otherwise. 

9. Stared at the Sun From 100 Feet Away. You were out doing some regular maintenance on your ship after colliding with some space junk, but turned out to be much closer to a certain star than you first thought. Your visor helped a small bit, but could hardly do anything to really stop its rays. You haven't been quite the same since.  

You can sense heat, even through walls. 

10. Illicit Experimentation. You were the subject of a series of dubiously successful tests run by a very keen and very unlicensed military scientist in an attempt to create a new strain of mutagenic material. 

You have advantage on saves against poisons, mind-altering drugs, all forms of chemical concoction, and anything that might reasonably have been tried on you. 

11. One-Wing Wonder. You were flying away at top speed from some enemies of the Legion when your pursuers took out an engine of yours. Not one to let that stop you, you handed things over to your co-pilot Steve, got out there, repaired it yourself, and lived to tell the tale. 

You can fix anything, given ten minutes, duct tape and a bottle of liquor. It has a 1-in-6 chance of blowing up every ten minutes of use until properly repaired. 

12. Fell Through a Wormhole. You came here from somewhere else, a world far beyond the known. You might refuse to share quite how you got here, but your home world or timeline left its mark.

Due to your altered relationship with reality, you can sometimes perceive things before they happen, or at least get a good idea of potential futures. If you find yourself in a dangerous situation with no easy way out, you can ask the DM a single sentence question about a potential plan you or the party make. They must give a (truthful) single sentence answer, albeit with a 1-in-6 chance they answer randomly instead. This goes up by 1 each time you use the feature, resetting each day.

Respect:

You aren't just another soldier. The title of Zouave means something, and some people are starting to remember that. Militias and similar low-"ranked" warriors will look up to you. Sometimes officials or enterprisers will take notice if you make some noise, though it doesn't mean they'll act on it (save perhaps a punishment). As well as this, NPCs take challenges from you just that bit more seriously. Their response is determined by a d6 and depends on their social level:

Colonist:
1: Disbelief and derision
2-6: Intimidation and apology

Spacer:
1: Loud mockery. Expect their friends to try and beat you up
2-5: They accept. Expect a fistfight or, at best, a choice of two sturdy clubs
6: Intimidation and awkward verbal submission

Capitalist (shitty):
1-2: Taser-beating
3-6: They accept. Name your terms.

Capitalist (even shittier):
1: Guards! Guards!
2-5: Taser-beating, followed by a second, more brutal taser-beating
6: Rad-pistols at dawn

PRIEST OF THE BLADE (GLOG Class)

You are a PRIEST OF THE BLADE; a disciplined and pious fighter. You are devoted to honing your skills and your sword, the latter acting like an extension of your self.

By Saranit Klinklaykun

Start with: a sword (give it a name), robes (as leather), an unadorned shield, holy vows you must uphold (come up with three, write them down), a tattered prayer book, oil and a whetstone

Skills (1d3): religion, history, smithing

A: Divine Violence, Way of Steel
B: Miracles of Might, Parry
C: Aura of Might
D: Sword-Saint

Divine Violence: Whenever you kill something that opposes you, your god, or your vows, you gain a Violence Die, expiring when you next rest. You can hold VD equal to your Priest level, and spend any amount of them when you hit with an attack to deal an extra [sum] damage (credit to Vayra for VD).

Way of Steel: You get +1 HP and +1 to-hit for each Priest template you have.

Miracles of Might: You can expend VD to call on minor favours from your god. Choose one manifestation of divinity now, and another reach time you take a Priest template or encounter a holy relic.
* Heal someone for [dice], or [sum] outside of combat.
* Call forth light, blinding enemies for [dice] rounds.
* When you slay an enemy, inflict [sum] damage to another adjacent one.
* Your allies deal an extra [dice] damage for the next [dice] rounds.
* Cut through a spell cast with fewer than [dice] dice.
* Reduce an incoming attack's damage by [sum], or full if you sunder your shield.

Spiritual Sustenance: Lunch restores an extra 1 HP to you and all members of your party, provided you spend an extra 10 minutes in prayer or solemn contemplation.

Aura of Might: Allies can make saves against fear and magic using your stats rather than their own.

Sword-Saint: You are revered by other followers of the Way, bearing the title of Blessed. You may make an extra attack each round, and take 1 less damage from all physical sources. When you die, another may take on your Blade and title, gaining the benefits of a 1st level Priest.