259
Thorn (Education DC: 15)
Type
WA
DMG
Rel. Hands RNG
Effect
Conc. EN
Weight
P or S
+3
3d6
15
1
Body
Bleed (75%)
x2m
Poison (100%)
J
3
.5
Ya’d not think much of a wooden dagger, right? Thing can’t hold an edge, it’ll never cut. Hell, it’d barely scrape ya. That is, any regular wooden dagger. Heh—I’m gettin’ ahead of myself.
Years and years ago, there was this Verdenian Knight named Heinrich of Orth. Now, this whoreson’d been born to be a knight. Real upstandin’ fel a, raised to always think about Verden and the future of his house. Heh, before the Nilfgaardian War, life was pretty quiet in Verden.
Biggest threat was the Brokilon. And oh boy, was it a threat. Ya can’t go a meter into the Brokilon without riskin’ your neck. Hell, even me, and I’m not even a ploughin’ human! The dryads hate anyone that ain’t one of them and they’re dead-eyes when it comes to archery. But anyway, Heinrich patrol ed the outside of the Brokilon, protectin’ townsfolk and huntin’ dryads.
One day Heinrich spots this one dryad in the depths of the woods—long moss-green hair, smooth emerald skin, and curves to put any human woman to shame. Heinrich’s smitten of course—at least, part of him sure is, heh. He sets out to capture this wild woman and make her his wife, or at least, mistress. Problem is, Verdenians don’t know much Elder Speech, and dryads don’t speak much Nordlin’, nor even get close enough to talk. So Heinrich has a think. He has a local smithy craft a net of silk and silver to toss over the young lass and take her back home. Heads out and leaves a wounded faun by the edge of the forest for the dryad to find. Suprisin’ enough, the daft plan works! The beautiful dryad comes into view at the edge of the forest, bow in hand. Quick as a whip, the knight nets the dryad and wrestles her to the ground.
Now Heinrich can’t marry the dryad—no priest’s gonna officiate that sorta thing—but he figures he can still enjoy the consumatin’.
Stripped of her bow and tied to his bed, Heinrich figures he can leave the dryad for a few minutes to brag to his mates. But ya can’t underestimate a dryad. Heinrich returns to an empty bed, a splintered bedpost, and cut ropes. The next thing Heinrich knows there’s a sharp pain in his back an’
fire in his veins. Heh, thing about dryads is they’re at one with nature and whatnot. Who knows how far that goes? Well, this one’s magic molded a dagger out of the wooden bedpost and hardened it like steel, with a scalpel’s edge. ’Magine as Heinrich fell, poison stoppin’ his heart, dagger stuck in his back, he probably thought it was a mistake leavin’ that dryad alone. I’d say the mistake was kidnappin’ her in the first place.
Decapitator (Education DC: 14)
Type
WA
DMG
Rel. Hands RNG
Effect
Conc. EN
Weight
Balanced
S
+0
10d6
20
2
N/A
Bleed (100%)
N/A
3
4
Meteorite
Taavetti of Metinna was the most famous headsman in all of Nilfgaard. Probably to do with him bein’ the one who put paid to the Usurpator and his mage. Heh, either way the son of a bitch was known all across Nilfgaard for quite a while and he always gave his audience a show. Folk say, he used an axe given to him by the Emperor himself, meteorite steel and inscribed with the laws of Nilfgaard. Musta made a strikin’ sight up at the execution block. Heh, thing is, Taavetti wasn’t just a deadly executioner. He was a grizzled old veteran from the darkest days of Nilfgaard. Fol owed the Empire all the way from Vicovaro and Gemmera to Angren and Cintra and probably bathed in more blood than any other soldier. People who knew him say his blood was never pumpin’ harder than when he was cutting down enemies on the field of battle.
After a while he got the nickname “the Decapitator” for his penchant to always swing for the head—and the fact that he rarely missed.
Durin’ the Second War the mad bastard wound up in some small town in Aedirn waitin’ for reinforcments, left behind with a few soldiers and a handful of women, children, and elderly. Taavetti got restless quick. Folk say it started small—Taavetti cut down a merchant for refusin’ to hand over his goods. His fel ow soldiers didn’t think too much of it, since flayin’ folk and boilin’ ‘em in oil was still common with the black ones. But then Taavetti beheaded a woman for refusin’ to sleep with him. This got the guards’ attention and one of ‘em tried to stop him. Guess Taavetti lost it. So used to bein’ the Decapitator, a prized and honored soldier and executioner of the Empire, he couldn’t handle anyone sayin’ no.
The reinforcements found Taavetti alone in the middle of town, covered in Aedirnian and Nilfgaardian blood, a pile o’ heads stacked up beside him, cleanin’ his damn axe and whistlin’ a tune. Taavetti was too popular to kill and too dangerous to bring back to Nilfgaard, so the officers kept him at the frontline where he’d mainly kill the enemy. But Taavetti died durin’ the war, given a suicide mission in the Kaedweni highlands to make sure he never came home. Some folk say that Taavetti’s mad spirit possessed his old axe, bound up with the pain of the dozens of vil agers and fel ow soldiers he kil ed. Others say that Taavetti survived his mission but had the misfortune to kill a highlands witch. His axe took her curse an’ drained the life right out of him.
260
Ogh’r (Education DC: 17)
Type
WA
DMG
Rel. Hands RNG
Effect
Conc. EN
Weight
B
+0
10d6
15
2
N/A
Stun (4)
Balanced
N/A
3
5
Rogar Hardhead was one hell of a troll. Lemme tell ya my friend, never heard of any other like him. Clear four meters tall and heavy as a cyclops, with a head so hard they say swords clattered off his forehead like hittin’ a stone wall. Rogar was a warlord. He’d beaten a few other trol s into workin’ for him and taken over a whole branch of mines in the Southern Mahakam Mountains. Rogar’d been fascinated with the optima mater and quicksilver in the mine and wanted it all for himself. Heh, what can ya say, he was a troll.
Problem is, the crew he’d run out of the mine was diggin’ deep to find glowin’ ore, which they desperately needed to fill a quota for Mahakaman dimeritium. The leader of that crew, a stout young dwarf named Yorath, wasn’t gonna be late on his order and he wasn’t gonna let a troll push him around. He had a friend named Andras who was a bit of a headstrong young blade—Andras was all too happy to head into the mine and chal enge Rogar. So Yorath, Andras, and a few of their mates headed down into the tunnels to chal enge the troll to combat for the mine. However, when they got to Rogar’s “throne room,” they found too many trol s to ever beat with the men they’d brought. Thinkin’ fast, Andras chal enged Rogar to a duel for the mine, thinkin’ he could take the troll one on one. Rogar agreed but with one condition—the battle’d be a headbuttin’ contest, popular among trol s I guess.
I’ll spare ya the gory details. Let’s just say Andras didn’t win. Taking Andras’ body, Yorath and his mates fled the mine, back to the city where they mourned Andras. After the funeral proceedings, Yorath swore revenge. He knew that he couldn’t fight the trol s. He knew that he couldn’t stand up to Rogar in a head-bashin’ contest. But, heh, he could use his superior intel igence. Yorath went to his forge and crafted a huge dark-iron maul that he named Ogh’r, a two-meter beast of a hammer with a head that put any other maul to shame. On the front of that broad, flat hammer h
ead, Yorath engraved the enraged face of a cave troll.
Once again Yorath traveled deep into the mines and met with Rogar, who agreed to another headbuttin’ contest. But Yorath tel s Rogar he’s brought a better head ta compete with, showin’ Rogar the glowerin’ face of Ogh’r. At first Rogar wasn’t tricked. Can’t use a hammer ‘cause it wasn’t a head. But Yorath was adamant, and his mates agreed. What’cha call the top of a hammer? A head. And only heads have faces right? Ya don’t see clubs with faces. Won over by that iron-clad argument, Rogar agreed. It was the last mistake the old brute’d ever make. Yorath got his mine back and avenged his friend all in one fell swoop. As for Ogh’r, it passed down through Yorath’s family for a while, before bein’ traded back and forth between dwarven families for a few years and eventual y goin’ missin’.
The Abyss Guard (Education DC: 18)
Type
WA
DMG
Rel. Hands RNG
Effect
Conc. EN
Weight
Freeze (75%)
P/B
+2
7d6+4
10
2
Body
x2m
Greater Focus (Water)
N/A
3
4
Long Reach
Lemme tell ya, merchants love a good mystery, ‘special y one that ends in money. This strange, barbed harpoon turned up in the market at Gors Velen a few years ago. Merchant didn’t think too much of it—old, dirty, soaked in sea water, and covered in algae. But when he cleaned the thing up to sell, he found somethin’ unexpected. From butt to barbs this harpoon’s inscribed with some strange runes. Not the runes we use nowadays—
flaming orange like dyin’ embers, and hummin’ with power. The harpoon’s blade was long and thin, with wicked barbs. Made of some al oy the fel a couldn’t place.
After a fair bit of marvelin’, the merchant set to tracing the fel a who’d sold him the harpoon. After a bit of work he found an old ship’s quartermaster on shore leave, in from Etolia. Turns out the quartermaster’d been given the harpoon by a crewman on a Skel ige whalin’ ship that hadn’t the coin to pay for a new blade back on the islands. Quartermaster said that the whaler had said he found the harpoon washed up on shore back on Faroe but he hadn’t touched the thing much cause it made the water act strange. Never heard specifics on what he meant by “make the water act strange,” though. This merchant talked the ears off other merchants and scholars in Gors Velen about the runes and the harpoon without findin’ much. Heh, coulda headed to Aretuza but they’d probably just’a kept the harpoon and tossed the poor bastard out on his ear.
After days of this the merchant came across a priestess of the Lady of the Lake who’d come to Gors Velen from Vizima. The Priestess said she’d seen runes like ‘em before, dealin’ with the Vodyanoi in their city at the bottom of Lake Vizima. With a little more diggin’ the merchant found out there used to be a city off the coast of Bremervoord cal ed the City of Ys. Probably had folk like the Vodyanoi, and they likely made his harpoon. Hopin’ to find more treasures to sell, the merchant headed out for the ruins of Ys on a chartered boat.
His hired divers couldn’t reach the city, but they saw its ruins far in the depths. And past those, off towards the Sedna Abyss, a huge skull of some sorta creature. To this day, there’s no clear connection between the harpoon, Ys, an’ that giant skull, but there’s all manner of speculation.
Folk have taken to sayin’ that the harpoon belonged to a brave Ysian warrior who went to his death protectin’ the city from some unholy horror that slithered out of the depths of the Sedna Abyss. Guess we’ll never know the truth, but the merchant made a bundle on the damn harpoon.
261
Succubus’ Wand (Education DC: 20)
Type
WA
DMG
Rel. Hands RNG
Effect
Conc. EN
Weight
Long Reach
Fire (25%)
B
+0
3d6+2
5
2
N/A
+2 Seduction
N/A
3
2
Greater Focus (Fire)
Focus (5)
Story is, this staff used to belong to a succubus by the name of Nerys. Heh, now I’ve talked to a lotta mages—well, three, but who’s countin’—and they say lotsa monsters have their own magic, ‘special y the ones that came from the Conjunction. But they don’t have magic like we do—they can’t perform spel s and whatnot. Lines up pretty well with what I’ve seen.
Still, they say this Nerys was a powerful mage. Could cast any spell a sorceress might, and was real prideful about it. She’d travel her territory, showin’ off to other succubi and satyrs and whatnot. Heh, but that wasn’t enough for Nerys. She sneaks into Ban Ard where she beguiles a young sorcerer into makin’ her a staff. With that staff in her hand, Nerys became twice as powerful—she could control just about anyone. The most chaste knight, the stuffiest priests, even women from what I hear, heh…. ‘course, the story don’t end there.
One day, Nerys encounters this young herder, out in the woods looking for his lost sheep. Folk’d warned him not to wander far, but he just couldn’t afford to lose that sheep. The poor boy hikes from sunup to noon just lookin’ for that damn sheep, and pretty soon he winds up near Nerys’ home. Itchin’ for a bit of fun and spottin’ an easy target, Nerys comes down from her ruins and greets the herder. ‘Course the kid’s scared outta his wits, but pretty damn tempted to stay. Can’t blame the poor lad—doubt my wil ’d been any stronger. Nerys invites the fel ow up for a roll in the hay, but he finds enough wit to insist that he’s got a wife at home who’ll skin him alive if he does. Nerys ain’t pleased, of course. She weaves all manner of enchantment around the boy, turnin’ his mind to mush and, ahem, other parts to diamond. ‘pon returnin’ home the lad’s exhausted and he’s got one foot in the grave already.
And the fel a’s right. His wife, she don’t take kindly to this at all. But the boy tel s how he’d been tricked by all sorts of foul magics—which of course, he had been. So his wife, she gathers up the bits of her dowry—a few silver pieces and a handsome necklace—and goes to the local blacksmith to get ‘em made into a silver hair pin. Night fal s. Nerys, hungry again after her romp with the farmer, is surprised to find some farm girl offerin’ herself up. But the girl pays her compliments, so Nerys doesn’t think much on it. Then, just as the fun’s beginnin’ our farm girl takes down her hair and drives her silver hair pin into Nerys’ heart. ‘Course Nerys’s shocked, since no mortal’s been able to resist her for years. Heh, never bet against a woman with murder in her heart. Deed done, the farmer’s wife returned home, takin’ Nerys’ staff as a trophy of her victory.
The Moon Bow (Education DC: 17)
Type
WA
DMG
Rel. Hands RNG
Effect
Conc. EN
Weight
Freeze (75%)
P
+1
8d6+2
10
2
200m
Balanced
N/A
3
2
+3 Damage to Wraiths
Oh boy. I wasn’t around for ‘em but the wars between the humans and... well, everyone else…were bloody as all hell. Heh, we think the Nilfgaardian Wars are bad? Shiploads of humans fightin’ everythin’ from elves and dwarves to vran and werebbubbs. Hell, they basical y wiped out lots of folks. All the werebbubbs I know of are squattin’ in the depths of Mahakam, and I ain’t seen a vran in decades. Needless to say the fields and forests were full of corpses an’ specters. And necrophages—rotfiends, ghouls, bul vores, all kinds of horrible critters.
The few groups of Aen Seidhe that managed to survive had to deal with all of that. Us dwarves were safe enough in our mountains, and the humans had all the cities
. The elves wanted to give their kin proper burial, but how’d’ya do it with hordes of beasts roamin’? Enough pikemen or archers can kill a necrophage. But a wraith’s different. For a wraith ya need a mage, or hope that a witcher wanders through, and that ain’t likely.
Well, legends say one elf woman named Aderyn wasn’t content to sneak and dodge the wraiths—she wanted to kill them, put their spirits to rest for good.
When they tell the tale, most people say she was given the Moon Bow by the Lady of the Fields. I’d believe it. Been up to Dol Blathanna and they say the Lady of the Val ey has some sorta avatar there. Never seen it myself, but it’s more than I’ve heard about the other gods, heh. The Moon Bow was built to hunt wraiths and put souls to rest. Aderyn took to the fields, huntin’ down wraiths and revenants and whatnot. With her help, the Aen Seidhe managed to take back a fair bit of the woods and actual y build some small settlements. But nothin’ lasts long.
Heh, as Kaedwen kept expandin’, Aderyn and her people started seein’ more and more humans and, since nobody’d broken the curse, every death in the forest meant more wraiths. By this time Aderyn was a warden of the wilderness and getting on in years. Guess all the years of endless huntin’ wore her down. Folk say she realized they were in a neverendin’ cycle, so she left. No one knows where she went—one day Aderyn, the warden of the woods was just gone. Some elves say she died shortly after for abandonin’ her divine post, but I like to think she found somewhere peaceful. Nice to imagine there’s somewhere peaceful out there.
262
Red Death (Education DC: 16)
Type
WA
DMG
Rel. Hands RNG
Effect
Conc. EN
Weight
P
+2
10d6
15
2
300m
The Witcher Pen & Paper RPG Page 56