Monday 26 December 2022

The Goblin Market

 Your boots crunch in the snow, down Magpie Alley way. Your guide, half your height and totally silent, snuffles exaggeratedly. The noise is deliberate theatre. You fix your gloves, adjust your hat. He, his feather-cloak and wicker snowshoes. 

“So, what are you looking for, guvnor?” He asks. 

“Just here to browse, goodsir.” You reply. 

“Goodsir? That’s some unfamiliar politeness, from a human.”

He laughs in a reedy pitch and undoes the hair-woven scarf, lifting a bronze flask to his lips. They peel back and the teeth, like nails, bite into the bottle-neck. Whiskey goes in, and a little wisp of his breath comes out. You catch a little whiff and nearly wretch. Smells like dead pigeons. 

On, down the lane. Snow falls in quiet curlicues. 

He stops and turns. He produces a crow of iron and begins to pry at a wall with it. You look over your shoulder. Between the goldsmiths and the pawn-shop you are situated. You glance up at the three spheres hanging from the bar, as your guide pries free a stone.

There’s a hole in the wall, two feet wide and issuing vapours. Patterned cambric curtains hang, chains rattle. The smoke is tobacco and wood. 

“In here?” You ask.

“In here. Mind your feet, guvnor, and touch nothing you don’t plan to buy.”

He squeezes in. You kneel and follow. 

The Goblin Market

“AND A MERRY CHRISTMAS TO EVERYONE NOT WELCOME IN POLITE SOCIETY”, a voice like a bell rings over the bedlam.

There’s an answering cheer, a sound like animals in the woods. 

Wooden stairs have appeared beneath your feet. The curtains part to show a swaying, hazy cavern. It seems as though the stones themselves are sozzled. Wine drips from the walls and pools around the paws and claws and occasional patent leather shoes. 

There is a furred and scratching crowd down below you, where the wine pools. Among them are a few of the human kind. Gentlefolk and poor alike. 

There are tall goblins, furred like cats and ugly in face. Short things like bats forced upright, galloping on their hands and slurping from the floor. Tiny men with long white ears and big pale eyes, scuttling and sweeping. Skinny things dancing with long limbs and donkey’s brays. The smell is unbelievable.

All around the stairs, leaning towers of detritus stand atop ancient hope chests and by armoires of doubtless provenance. Strange artefacts, things you’d probably label Egyptian, stacks and stacks of books in the arms of classical statues and at the feet of eerie little shrines. 

Your guide scuttles down the stairs ahead of you and you follow. 

“You believe in Christ?” You ask your guide, who is shedding his cloak. 

He flings it over a statue covered in birdshit, labelled DIS PATER. Then, he scuttles behind it. A table covered in swaying fabrics and towers of bric-a-brac walks out, legs bending like it’s alive.

He springs up on it, and lays out a little sign: “SELLING ODDITIES”. 

“After a fashion, I suppose. You believe in Mithras?” He asks, arranging the mess on his table. 

“What’s that have to do with anything?” 

“You asked me first.” He retorts. 

“Listen, what are you selling, anyway?”

“Hang on, there’s a speech.” He coughs, and it sounds like someone grating a live cat. 

CAVEAT EMPTOR, Cicero said, and you be Emptor tonight, goodsir. You stand at the stall of Little Shuck, the Hob. Our nation of goblins shoes all shoes for prices, repairs the windows of good Christians, and sweeps the floors of sleeping witches.” He says. 

He throws aside the hair scarf, and you get a good look at him. Two feet in height, hands deft, eyes like two black coals. A furred body, like a cat wearing a mask of an old man. He has small tweeds, sized right for himself. 

You practise that speech?” You ask.

“Just buy something, tall.” Shuck complains. 

1d6 Oddities at the Hob’s Table

  1. Giant’s Broom - A twelve foot tall broom. Sweeps tenfold more than an ordinary broom, and catches mice, rats, bugs and other floor-denizens safely in its massive bristles when it does so. Also, can easily sweep a normal person physically off their feet. 

  2. Witch-Shears - When you tell them to, these shears hang in the air, and when you tell them to, they cut. They can do both at once. 

  3. Dracobezoar - Coughed up by Y Ddraig Goch himself. Hot to the touch, tastes like coal, grey like iron. Eat this and you will literally shit fire, but all disease, pain, ache and poison will leave your body by the next morning.  

  4. Gyr-Carling’s Knitting - The knitting of the ogre-queen of witches. A black sweater a thumb’s thickness, made of Old Scratch’s chest hairs. Turns aside pointed implements, unless the Devil wants them to hit you. Smells like brimstone and goat sweat. 

  5. Innocence, Jarred - Lasts for about four hours, minus half an hour for each decade you’ve been alive. Returns you to an innocent state, allowing you to be kind, forgiving, and (crucially) protected by the angels, at least for the duration. 

  6. Ancien Cor Anglais - Solid horn and gold. A knockoff of Olifant, the horn of Roland, made by some wizard-knight in the 1100s. It ‘only’ deafens half the countryside for seven miles and knocks out anyone that blows it. 

“That sweater is vile.” 

“Authentic, too.” 

“I think I’ll keep browsing.” You make a half wave, and he wiggles his fingers, grinning. 

“Mind my advice!” He calls, as you walk away.

You stumble between two stalls supported on doric columns. One thing, a little like a sickly dog in a banker’s suit, is attempting to hawk a statue of a Babylonian winged bull to a young woman dressed richly. You nod to each other as you pass. 

Beyond them, a tall, broad-bodied woman, almost human but for her twice-long arms, clawed hands, and deer’s nose, stands dressed in peasant’s dress from three centuries ago. Her eyes are large and dark, and her hair is ginger-brown, tousled and tangled. 

You nod to her, she coughs and recites:

CAVEAT EMPTOR, Cicero said, and you be Emptor now, love. You stand at the stall of Jinny Knifegrinder, the Bug-bear. Our nation of goblins frightens children into right behaviour, startles the lonely in the woods and warns others when witches be dancing at their Mass.” 

Her voice is deep and low. 

“I see. Well, good work, I think? What do you sell?”

Her table is covered in cloths, bowls, and huge sprigs of plant-life. 

Things from woods and witches, sir.” She says,.

1d6 Herbs at the Bugbear’s Stall

  1. Aglaophotis Flowers - They look like peony’s flowers spun from threads of gold. They glitter gloriously. A dose wards off fever, demons and all witchcraft for one cycle of the moon. 

  2. Mandragora - A root that screams and kills all human listeners when harvested. Luckily, this one’s freshly picked. A key ingredient in ointments and potions which allow flight. I can sell you the recipe, too! 

  3. Irrwurz - A black fern. Whosoever steps on it immediately becomes lost, and cannot find the way back to where they came from. Preserved in a jar of formaldehyde. One jar contains the potent Tyrolian Irrwurz, which teleports you to the nearest swamp or knacker’s yard when touched. 

  4. Sanjeevani - Grows only on Ṛṣabhādri, the ox-shaped mountain stolen by Hanuman. A powerful medicinal herb, restoring 3d6 hitpoints and a limb per dose. I don’t advise trying any when you’ve all your health and limbs. 

  5. Apple of Gomorrah - Harvested from the great tree that now stands where that city once stood. A grey-black apple. When touched by a human hand, it bursts instantly into smoke, embers and flames, igniting all flammable nearby.

  6. Raskovnik - The five-leafed clover grown in Bulgaria and Serbia. When it touches anything locked at all, the lock springs open. Normally harvested by walking prisoners through a field in leg irons, and waiting to see which goes free first. 

“Hm. Thank you for showing me.” You say, moving to go. 

Merry Christmas, love.”  She says, with a smile. 

You turn away from the Bug-bear’s stall, and walk on. 

Far beyond everyone, a huge alcove is cut into the stone of the wall, dressed in hanging brocades and gold tassel rope. A roaring cough echoes from within. 

You tilt your head down and look. Below you, spread on a tartan blanket is another stall. It’s managed by a little creature, two feet tall, long like a ferret, but with human hands and eyes, and bright gingery fur. It wears a little cap and a rawhide belt with a pipe stuck in it. It looks up at you. 

The little creature coughs and sprays a fine mist into the air. You pull your scarf up.

It speaks in a reedy gasp: 

CAVYAT EMTER, Cicero said, and yer Emter now, lad. You staun at the stall of Jock o’ Glaschu, the Wirry-cow. Our nation a’ goblins assist a’ drunks and ruffians, helps count the coins o misers, and frightens awa preening men o law and cloth.” 

The little creature’s accent is that of a Scotsman. 

“I imagine you have plenty of work, then.” You say. with a smirk. 

Hah! Bastard! Buy something!”

It gestures: 

1d6 Acquired Goods, on the Wirry-cow’s Blanket

  1. Gold Crucifix (Italian) - Never know when it might come in handy. One of the arms is a little bent ‘cause I dropped it when I ran off with it. 

  2. Cohuleen Druith - The magic silvery hood of a merrow (or undine, if you ask Paracelsus). It allows them to travel between the dry land and the deep seabed without fear of drowning in air, and it’ll let you do the same without fear of drowning in water. Though, be wary of the previous owner. 

  3. Giant’s Draught - A clay jar, sealed, containing a quart of beer from a giant’s barrel. One sip will have a tall fellow drunker than a New Year’s party. I recommend it for a New Year’s party! 

  4. Gnome’s Smoking Pipe - Hah! Gnomes! Silly little fellows would barely notice if you robbed their beard off their face. This pipe lets you smoke any rock or stone as if it were tobacco, bolstering the spirits and the bones. Smoking precious stones has been said to send people on spirit-trips to chthonic realms near Hell. 

  5. Huldra’s Charcoal - Special charcoal, made from the friendly partnership of a Huldra and a charcoal burner in deepest Sweden. Then I nicked it. Produces a smokeless yellow flame that casts back illusions and smells of sweet flowers. 

  6. Dwarf’s Hammer - Pretty-much indestructible. Grey-adamant, I think. Of course, she wants it back, so look out for a short woman called Guðrún, awright? 

“Hm. Not for me, thank you. But good luck.”

Don’t step in horse-shit.” He says, as a farewell.

On you go through the wine-stink and the humid air. Lots of people are breathing in here. A human, dressed as a beggar, passes you, clutching a staff with a golden bull’s head on the end. 

He walks away from a hole carven into the wall. Inside, a creature sits, tall and blue, legs dangling. Two little eyes above a face entirely made of nose. It snuffles loudly, hesitantly.

A voice comes from the nostrils as you get near. 

“CAVEAT EMPTOR, Cicero… etc. You stand by the wall-hole of Jack o’ Flour, the Kilmoulis. Our nation of goblins works hard for all millers, plays tricks on the lazy and is charged to steal food for the angels.” 

“For the angels? Do they need to eat?”

“I suppose they enjoy it. Are you buying anything? My wares are unparalleled.” It snuffles, pointing behind itself. 

1d6 Wizard’s Curios at the Kilmoulis’ Hole

  1. A Scholomance Schoolbook - Written by the Devil himself. Contains all manner of grim sorceries and strange methods, like how to communicate with the dead or produce a ring of invisibility from frozen mercury. 

  2. A Skull from Baba Yaga’s Fence - Mount it by your door, and it will scream bloody murder when your enemies come nearby. 

  3. Merlin’s Spare Wand - The very same one on the Ace of Wands card. Old yew, dead but still growing leaves. Any sorcerer or witch who bears this is recognised, legally, as a demon, and can strike fear by merely pointing it. 

  4. John Dee’s Book of Angels - Written in Enochian, so I hope you can read it. Effectively, an address book for the Heavenly Host. Contains everything you need to invoke angels, so long as you are an occultist of means. The chapter on the Archangel Michael warns in strong terms not to summon him lest ye have Evil for him to smite. 

  5. Koschei's Cloak - One of the many items owned by old Koschei. Stolen by a lucky fellow in the fields of Poland just last year! No, Koschei isn’t dead, that soul in that egg was a decoy. You think he got called the Deathless by only having one soul stowed away? Anyway, the cloak protects you from all smoke and fire so long as you don’t swear while you’re wearing it - then it immolates!

  6. Jack-o-Kent’s Boots - A pair of old leather boots, mud-caked and singed. The footsteps of the wearer leave them buried to the knee but unslowed by what they step on, and, should they dance a jig, their heels will crack stone and split them. 

“These are some remarkable provenances.” 

“What’s a proffynence?” 

“Oh, nevermind. Merry Christmas.” 


It sneezes like a gunshot. 

You move off. 

You’re stopped almost immediately, as a huge, broad-backed goblin, wearing a white kerchief round his neck, stumbles in your way. He’s carrying a whole bench like a tray. He’s bony, with grey skin, short-furred, and a horsey, toothy face. 

CAVEAT EMPTOR, Cicero said, and you be Emptor tonight, goodsir. You stand at’ stall of Rudefellow, the Brag. Our nation of goblins bedevils travellers, saves the lost and embarasses the well-off.”

“Well, the stall stands at me, surely?” 

“Don’t get smart. Buy something, won’t you?” 

He gestures with the bench, plaintively. 

1d6 Bandit’s Friends, at the Brag’s Bench

  1. Saltbox - An old fashioned +1 revolver, which fires in total silence with a bright white flash. When you’ve fired six shots from it, it has to be prayed over by a (Catholic) priest, or the next shot brings up a demon from Hell and a faery out from the Otherworld. 

  2. One of Jack’s Irons - A chain from the apparel of a famous bandit giant that haunts Yorkshire. Very hard to break, and whips and twitches to break the ankles and wrists of watchmen and bank-guards. 

  3. Hand of Glory - The pickled sinistral hand of a hanged man, set with a candle made from his very own tallow. When the candle’s lit, any who see you carrying it must save or be rendered completely immobile. 

  4. Tarnhat - A ushanka hat, sewn with tin charms and an iron plate, a cheap knockoff of the Tarnhelm. Allows invisibility to all humans, and can catch fire to instantly transfer your body and your soul (but not possessions or clothes) five miles in any direction. 

  5. Mask of an Honest Man - Smiling, yellow-lacquered birch. Rosy cheeks and dog-hair eyebrows. Put it on, and everyone sees you as just that - an honest man. Specifically, John Dodgson, 54, a miller from Coventry, born in 1348. 

  6. Letter of Marque, Scribed with Alder Leaves - A letter from the court of the Erlking, giving the bearer legal passage to plunder and rob on the roads of England and Wales, so long as they give every sixth shilling to the Fair-folk.


“Well, you know how your human-queen is a Hanoverian German?” Rudefellow says. 


“Well, our faery-king is also a German. Isn’t that funny?” 

Rudefellow chuckles. 

“I suppose so.” You reply, unsure. 

“Well, either buy or piss off.” He snaps. 

“I’ll keep browsing.”

You piss off. 

Out into the market again. You step over a little rivulet of wine in which little men and women, barely a foot tall, with gossamer wings, frolic and fly. Perhaps, a few months ago, you’d have been surprised by pixies. 

You see that great yawning alcove again, and curiosity takes you. 

Onwards towards the curtained alcove you go. A pair of Bug-bears clad in moss, sedge and the branches of yew trees play fiddle and pipes, sitting on the bench outside. They play a soothing song, by a table covered in chains, hooks, and pointed implements.

There’s a little bell. One of the musicians rings it with a bare and clawed foot when you approach.

You hear the stall’s owner approaching, grumbling deep as a bull as it pushes through the silken curtains. 

The massive thing pushes out from his alcove, turning aside the curtain by the blade of a messer. Half a sail’s worth of damask and brocade follows out, cladding the huge creature in an open coat. A boot bigger than your head presses on wine-soaked cobbles. 

He rather reminds you of the tiger you saw at London Zoo. Or of old Obaysch the Hippopotamus, in terms of frame. He’s wide around the waist, heavy of head, thick of limb, covered in silky, spiky fur, in shades of black and russet. His mouth is practically spilling fangs, and his rolling eyeballs are too human for comfort - brightly blue. 

They roll to you and you stumble back a pace, bumping against a long-limbed goblin with a dog’s face hauling a crate. He barks a slur at you.

You step back into the thing’s reach. He yells: 


After a pause, you respond with:

Evening, Redbeard. You sell…?”


He sets down the messer and gestures widely with his massy hands. 

1d6 Red Tools, at the Ogre’s Stall:

  1. “Thankless Job”, a +1 1856 Burnside Carbine. This very modern tool drips with blood and accepts any bullet-sized bodypart in place of the gun’s usual unique cartridges. The gun’s report sounds like an American shouting curses.    

  2. The False George” , a +1 awl-pike wrapped in holly and red ribbons. Deals an extra point of damage for each consecutive week you’ve missed Mass, but blunts and bends if you miss the feast of an important saint. The bite of its point causes fear in crocodiles, wyrms and all other reptiles of the Earth. 

  3. I Shall Equalise”, a +1 Colt Walker Revolver with a poem carved into the horn grip. Does double damage to creatures with less than half or more than double your Hit Dice. Shiny and clean. 

  4. Kanabo, authentic, from far Japan. This is my cousin’s one and don’t tell anyone I’m selling it. Far too large for any ordinary fellow to use in a fight, but it can crush anything in one.

  5. ULTIMA RATIO REGIS, a Prussian cannon. It’s infused with the power of royal disregard, and it breaks all laws in a hundred miles when lit and fired. Anyone witness to the firing is an accomplice, legally. 

  6. Excalibur - An Oakeshott Type XVII. Shines with an eerie light, wrapped in black damask silk. Set in the cross-bar is a gem of forest green that glints enticingly. You can hear the sharpness. It stings your eyes.


“Excuse me, Redbeard, I notice you’ve labelled this as Excalibur -” You begin.

The Ogre startles, and rushes from his alcove, eyes rolling in his head. The size of him throws a gust of wind afore him. He snatches up the wrapped blade, then yelps, sucking a cut finger. He chucks the sacred relic behind himself into the alcove. 

You hear it embed into a wall. 


He points a knife the length of your torso at you.

“Ah, yes, of course.” 


You back away, to let swearing Redbeard struggle with his cut thumb, and wander off into the Market. 

You find yourself suddenly in a quiet corner, shared only by a tall wooden shrine. It has a pair of oaken doors, and is covered in dribbly red candles. Inside are two statues, with nearly-human faces, metal antlers, enamel eyes and pointed ears. They carry staves and bows, real ones, placed in their wooden hands. Carven wolves sit by their feet, fangs dripping wine and water. 

At their feet, sit their wares. It seems even the shrines sell things at this market. 

Carved into the wood below them: 


You narrow your eyes.

“Goodness, this Latin is abysmal.” 

1d6 Negotiable Offerings, at the Shrine of Elf Royalty

  1. Prester John’s Grail - A hobgoblet of iron. Drinking wine from it provides infinite courage to even the most shuddery poltroon. 

  2. Elfshot - A bundle of twenty stone-headed arrows. They vanish when you shoot them, and deal internal damage at the point they would’ve struck. They’re fletched with the Simurgh’s feathers. 

  3. Wild Hunter’s Dagger - Long, thin. Seems to be made of black glass. Wickedly sharp. When you cut someone with it, you know where they are exactly until the wound stops bleeding. 

  4. Prepared Evil Eye - A real eyeball, in chemical jelly. Does the cursing for you, when ordered, and it can’t be traced back to you! Indispensable to the modern occultist. 

  5. Glasses of Real Intent - When worn, those who look at the glasses become an open book to you. What they intend for all they see is known to you. Be careful what you learn. 

  6. Scrap from the Sail of Wade’s Boat - When burned, bears you across the sea as if held in the hands of a giant running at full tilt. It’s a bumpy, cold, and uncomfortable ride. Wade and his boat are in Hell, at the moment, and you can ask to be borne to him, if you desire. 

You look left and right for the owner of the stall, then, giving up, you pick up the glasses and slip them into a pocket.

You walk back through the market, fighting through the bedlam one carefully applied shove and cane at a time. You nod to Little Shuck, who winks at you, and you mount the stairs, ascending from the sea of smoke and silks. 

In the architrave, you thumb the glasses in your pocket. 

You hastily glance back at the glaring statues.

You hurry out into the dark. 

Sunday 25 December 2022

Heartless (Class: Wizard of Outshire)

This isn’t for any of my other settings. I suppose it’s self contained?

Howl’s Moving Castle is a movie that is near and dear to my heart. I love it so much, earnestly.

I watched it again, and it sparked this - originally, a pure conversion, but it got out of hand and developed a slightly grimmer spirit of its own. This class is pretty powerful - use with caution, I suppose?

(I wrote the above words months ago. This has been a draft for a while.) 

A Wizard is someone who owes much – or perhaps all – to the Otherworldly Powers, which lurk in the All-Consuming Fog at the northern borders of Outshire.

A Wizard is a heartless creature wearing the skin of a youth it tricked and ate.
A Wizard is a desperately sad thing, driven out by the ignorant and decried as a monster.

Wizards are not welcome in the dales and towns of Outshire.

But they come all the same.

+1 MD and +2 Spells per Template, including Delta Templates.
Starting Items: Neat Clothes, Second Outfit (Extravagant), Year-Round Train Tickets to Mariongold, 5 Books, impractical or ostentatious weapon (e.g., cane-sword, derringer, filigreed golden knife).
A – Transformation, Fog, Subtle Magic
B – Method
C – Second Senses
D – Partial Transformation
Δ – Sanctum
Δ – Fog-Eaten
Δ – Whole Again
Δ – The Power to Take

Perk: Heartless
You are a Wizard. In the armour of your soul there are no weaknesses. You cannot be debilitated by loss. You are ageless, although young at the moment.

You can convince foglings, the creatures of the Fog, to work for you, for various purposes.

Drawback: Heartless
You are a Wizard. You are unable to cry or feel grief. You cannot muster heartache. Your world will leave you behind, someday, if it doesn’t destroy you first.

There are certain rules you must obey:
  • You cannot cross lines of salt.
  • If you enter a building uninvited, you cannot read, or understand speech, while inside - until given permission to be there.
  • You may never befriend dogs. They are always wary of you.

The first power of the Wizard is to transform – it is the most dangerous and least subtle thing any Wizard could do. As such, most are content to wear their charming human faces.

Choose the nature of your Transformation. Most Wizards become beasts, flames, creatures of myth – dangerous and impressive, if monstrous.

The wizards gathered in the mage-city of Llanway (far to Outshire’s west) refer to their Transformation as their “Other Self”. This term has stuck.

You may Transform at will – while Transformed, whenever you cast a spell, your MD Explode, i.e, roll again on a 6, adding the result to [sum] and incrementing [dice] by one. The rolls from exploding dice don’t cause Mishaps, just the initial rolls.

You are also a giant monster. You gain Extra HP equal to twice your Fog stat (see below), and likely gain access to other abilities such as flight, fire-breath, venom, water-breathing – stuff like that.

Drawbacks include being a giant monster, and thus having everyone nearby that doesn’t know you screaming and shooting at you, that sort of thing.

You have a new stat, called Fog – it begins at 0. It represents the loss of humanity.

Every time you revert from your Transformation, roll a save. If you fail, gain a point of Fog.

Fog does four things:
  • Higher Fog causes passive supernatural effects to “leak” from you more and more when you become agitated, usually themed around what spells you know.
  • Add your Fog to Saves vs. Magic
  • You gain [Fog]*2 Extra HP while Transformed.
  • For each point of Fog you have, it takes another hour to fully transform back to yourself
The more Fog you have, the more the line between your two forms becomes blurred – your face on the monster’s head, random bursts of feathers or scales, that sort of thing.

Should you teach someone magic, you can lower your Fog by 1.
Taking an Apprentice is an involved process, which, of course, creates another Wizard.

Subtle Magic
You gain passive magical abilities, subtle in nature but pervasive in their influence – a consequence of being half-in, half-out of the Fog. These abilities must be passive, i.e, always active and requiring no input, and subtle – no fire or lightning, no incantations or staves.

You start with 2 and gain another whenever you gain a Template. 

For some examples:
  • Any time you jump or leap, the air seems to rush up to catch you – your leap is long and step weightless.
  • Doors always seem to be unlocked for you.
  • You can weave through a crowd without being slowed or followed.
  • You can fit yourself into any space that would hold your torso.
  • You are always perfectly clean.
  • You cannot drown.
  • You can make yourself look taller and more sinister than you actually are.
  • You can read and write at terrific speeds.
  • You make unparalleled cups of tea.
You have refined your art – no mere flinger of blind incantations, you have begun to fortify and refine your methods and practises: how have you gone about that? Choose one of the following options.
  • Orthodox – Learned ones, who record in tomes. A method of rote and research.
  • Witch – Practical ones, who work with heads. A method of practice and caution.
  • Enchanter – Vain ones, who look within. A method of instinct and will.
  • Artisan – Direct ones, who build with their hands. A method of refinement and stability.
  • Gutter – Truly heartless ones, who fight for scraps. A method of accumulation and bitterness.
See below, at the Spell Lists, for what these actually mean in a mechanical sense.

Second Senses
You have changed again, become more attuned to the strange and otherworldly.

You can detect the presence of magic or active spells as a distinctive smell and a faint shimmer of disturbed light. You can instinctively tell how many [dice] were invested in a spell.

Furthermore, you know automatically when you’re in the presence of other Wizards, and can detect such things as Familiars, Servants and Simulacra by their presence alone.

Partial Transformation
You have mastered the border between your forms - for now, at least.

You can now manifest parts of your Other Self - a tail, wings, claws, and so on - gaining the benefit of such a part, such as flight or water-breathing.

When Partially Transforming, you don’t get the exploding MD or extra HP, but neither do you need to Save vs. Fog.


You know two spells at Level 1. You may:
  • Choose one from any GLOG source (preferring the subtle or non-destructive), and roll 1d6 on the Hedge-Mage list.
  • Or roll 2d8 on the Hedge-Mage list.

From second level onwards, you have access to two Spell Lists – the Hedge-Mage list, and the associated list for your chosen Method.

Roll 2d8 at Level 2, 2d10 at Level 3, and choose two spells at Level 4.

You may choose which list you roll each of your dice on.
Should you roll a duplicate, move up or down the list until you hit a new spell.

If you roll doubles when casting a Spell, roll on the following Mishap table:

  1. Phenomena – For the next [dice] Hours, you’re surrounded by hallucinatory phenomena which make it distinctly difficult for you to see and hear.
  2. Outburst - Some element of your Other Self - such as the feathers from your wings, the smoke of your flames, or perhaps the scales of your hide, make themselves extremely apparent. The outburst lasts [dice] Hours. If you Transform during this time, you automatically fail the Save vs. Fog.
  3. Twisting - You suffer Damage equal to your Fog stat, as some part of you changes in a spasm of fog and magic. If this drops you to 0, you immediately Transform, gaining 10HP but revealing yourself.
  4. Sickness - The next time you cast a Spell, or you are otherwise exposed to magic, save or vomit up 1MD messily. You recover it on a rest as normal. It usually looks like a bird or a worm. If you have no MD when you fail the save, take 1d6 Damage instead.
  5. Agony – The shape of your Other Self intersects with your current form, painfully melding – whenever you take an action or move, take 1d6 Damage. This lasts [dice + highest] Rounds.
  6. Fogling - A hungry Fogling with [dice] HD will appear near you at the next sunset. It will likely roost in your house, or follow you everywhere, and wait for you to die, so it can eat your corpse. Foglings are patient and ageless. If you and your companions are ever outnumbered by Foglings, they’ll take their chance and attack.
If you roll triples, gain a point of Fog, and briefly but totally shift into your other form.


Δ – Sanctum
In a building which you own, have built, or occupy without contest, convince a Fogling to become the spirit of the building.

Your new Domovoi means that your building is partially in the Fog - perfect for a magical Sanctum!

Inside your Sanctum, you can undertake [1d6+Dice] months of work to create a Scroll of a spell you know, you can summon a Fogling of [dice] HD into a ritual circle, and other such Wizardly processes.

You also know instantly if another Wizard enters your Sanctum.

Δ – Fog-Eaten
Allow your Fog to reach 13.

You are Transformed Permanently – you are now what the people of Outshire might call a Monster – something to be hunted down, a ravenous terror on the land, and a shame to all respectable Wizards. Expect to be destroyed in short order, or to become a hungry and terrible legend. You don’t need to stop playing your character.

Δ – Whole Again
While at 0 Fog, find genuine love.

Your heart is returned to you, perhaps allowing you to find true peace and fulfilment.

Increase all of your stats by 2. You lose the ability to Transform, but keep your Spells and Subtle Magic.

Δ – The Power to Take
Find genuine love (with more than 0 Fog) and then lose it.

You gain the power of Utter Theft. You can expend an MD to Take something. And I mean anything. Youth? Ambition? Money? Patriotism? That River? Your worst enemies? Your closest friends?

When you Take something, it disappears, replaced by Fog. Choose how you store it – as a tessellation on a scroll, in a bottle, inside a lockbox or within a familiar, for example. You can return it at any time, or give it to yourself, or an ally, allowing them to use it. Wizards have been known to steal hearts and move rivers by this power.

The power of Utter Theft is why this world is such a patchwork - heartbroken wizards stealing entire lands from the face of the earth, and hiding them away in their vaults and skulls.



Hedge-Mage Spells

1. Find Familiar
R: Touch T: A Vessel Full of Blood D: Permanent
You summon a talkative 0HD Creature with a bad attitude. It is, technically, a Fogling. This Spell requires no Dice to cast, but if you want the following benefits, you must “feed” the Familiar MD.

You can choose [dice] of the following powers when you feed your Familiar:
  • You can swap senses with your Familiar.
  • You can speak through your Familiar.
  • Your Familiar can pass as an ordinary animal, and hide from Second Senses.
  • Your Familiar is unhindered by locks, bars and latches.
  • Your Familiar can become invisible.
Benefits last until you rest.

2. Slow
R: Within twelve paces. T: Anything. D: [Sum] rounds.
The target’s motion is reduced in speed and force, as much as it needs to be, for the duration, although it must remain in motion. This halves a person’s move speed, prevents a fall from dealing damage, slows a speeding train, etc.

Creatures may save if unwilling.

Quicker objects can be caught by investing more dice - a galloping horse at 2, a speeding car at 3, a bullet at 4, and so on.

3. Servants
R: Touch T: [sum] sets of clothes D: Until Dispelled
You summon [sum] 0HD Servants by investing MD. Servants are plain humanoid forms that are capable of lifting, dragging, pulling and working as a team. They are, technically, Foglings. They attack as a group, dealing 1 Damage per Servant, with a +1 Bonus to hit for every two Servants present.

The servants remain until you reclaim the MD, which you can do at any time.

4. Bottomless Cup
R: Touch. T: A Filled Vessel D: [sum] rounds.
For [sum] rounds, whatever liquid is contained in the vessel is infinite in capacity - you can drink and pour, and it will never empty.

5. Smarten Up
R: Line of Sight T: Something dirty or damaged. D: [sum] hours.
Makes someone, somewhere, or something, superficially cleaner or more appealing.

If cast with 4 or more dice, the effect is not superficial, but actual, creating a physical change for the duration - this would repair a broken vehicle or fix ruined clothes for the duration.

6. Moving Objects
R: Line of Sight T: [sum] objects smaller than a horse. D: [dice] hours.
The targeted objects begin to move, as if walking on invisible legs. You choose where they go and what they do. They can’t muster enough force to deal damage, but they can be used as cover, ridden, or used as part of a trap.

7. Sleep
R: Within 5 paces. T: [sum] HP of creatures. D: [dice] hours.
Wave your hand, and place up to [sum] HP of creatures in a confused, dreamlike state, where they are dozy, impressionable, friendly, and unlikely to remember anything. The presence of danger allows them to save against this spell, and damage ends it.

8. Folding Pavilion
R: Touch T: A tent. D: Until the tent is finally knocked over.
The target tent gains [dice] extra interior spaces, the size of average rooms, which are furnished with… weird shit, like too tall chairs and uncannily soft bedrolls. The whole tent has a “liminal space” feeling about it. It will resist [sum] attempts to knock it over.

Incidentally, if you cut it from the inside, Fog spills out.

9. Scrying
R: Infinite. T: Known. D: [sum] rounds.
You hold up a transparent or reflective object, and, for the duration, you can see a person, place or object which you have:
  • Previously seen.
  • A part of.
  • Gained the True Name of. (True Names are ineffable, and totally unrelated to what someone actually goes by day to day.)
Scrying bypasses all but the most powerful concealments.
If you know a target person’s True Name while scrying, you can hear their thoughts as well.

10. Invisibility
R: Within whispering distance. T: Anything D: [dice] hours.
The target becomes unseeable.
At 2 or more Dice, they also become unhearable.
At 3 or more Dice, they become invisible to Second Senses as well.
At 4 or more Dice, the spell prevents any form of detection, up to and including Scrying.

11. Gate
R: Within sight. T: An aperture. D: [sum] rounds.
The target aperture becomes a portal to the Fog.
You can cast this while in the Fog to exit from any aperture you are aware of.

Alternatively, you can use this spell to drag a [dice]*2 HD Fogling into the world. It has no allies and no enemies, but it hungers for magic.

12. Tower
R: Within Sight. T: A building. D: Permanent
The target building becomes suffused with Fog. It gains [dice] additional rooms in defiance of logic, and its exits lead to [dice] additional locations, again, in defiance of logic.

You may only have one Tower at a time. Casting this spell on another building reverts the changes to your previous Tower.

Subsequent castings of this spell must be at least [1d12 + dice] months later. If you choose to cast it on the same building before then, save. If you fail, the Fog spills into the interior of your Tower. It is now full of monsters, and is a gateway to a terrible pocket dimension full of the things which ate your heart.


Perk: Rote-Learning
If you have a laboratory or sanctum, you can research new Spells with [2d6 - Templates] Months of Work, minimum of 1. 
You can also extract Spells from Scrolls with an hour’s work, allowing you to learn the Spell instead of expending the scroll.


1. Magic Spear
R: As far as you can throw the object. T: An object and a target creature. D: Instant.
You infuse a physical object with powerful magic, allowing you to hurl it with unexpected accuracy and force. If the object is even remotely spear shaped - broom, staff, branch, or an actual spear - make the attack roll with a +[dice] bonus - on a hit, it deals [sum]+[dice] damage. If the object is some other shape, make the attack roll as normal, and only deal [sum] damage.

2. Knock
R: Touch T: Something That’s Shut D: Instantaneous
You knock roughly on a closed object, forcing it open with a loud bang. This works on closed doors, shut chests, lowered visors, locked padlocks and similar things.

If used on a creature of [dice] or less HD, it will disclose what it is thinking about immediately.

3. Lock
R: Touch T: Something That’s Open D: Until Dispelled.
You tap gently on an open object, forcing it shut with a sucking sound. It cannot be opened by a creature with [dice] or less HD. You can allow creatures to open Locked things, if you choose. 

If used on a creature of [dice] or less HD, it will be unable to speak for [sum] hours.

4. Identify
R: Sight T: Something Visible D: Instant
You examine an item, and something peeking through your eyes does the same. Between you, you produce [dice] useful facts about whatever it is you’re looking at.

5. Grease
R: Touch T: A person, object, or [dice*10] square feet of floor or wall. D: [sum] minutes.
Run your hand along the target - it immediately loses all friction, becoming as slippery as possible.

6. Shield
R: N/A T: Self D: [dice] rounds.
You wreathe yourself in choking strands of Fog, obscuring your form and warping the space around you. Gain [highest] AC for the duration. This can be cast on someone else’s turn. Casting shield with 4MD leaves a permanent area of distorted space in your wake.

7. Air Walk
R: Touch T: Anything D: [sum] minutes.
The target can step on thin air as if it were a plane of particularly durable glass. This allows it to run, climb or slide through the air, if you desire.

Objects targeted by this spell are held upright in the air wherever you cast the spell on them.

8. Haste
R: Within Twelve Paces. T: Anything. D: [sum] rounds.
The motion of the target is increased - it is exactly as fast as it needs to be for the duration, although it must remain below the speed of sound. Hasted targets can make an extra attack per round.

Creatures may save if unwilling.

Casting this spell can also accelerate decay - ice will melt and plants will wilt. With 4 dice, you can rust iron and rot wood. This decay doesn’t work on people, for unclear reasons, likely linked to the presence of a soul - or maybe to humoral balance?

9. Hold
R: Sight T: Anything that can move. D: [sum] rounds.
The target is stopped, put into stasis. It cannot take damage, move, or do anything. No force can act on it. Creatures may save if unwilling, and are not conscious while Held. Targets affected by Hold discolour strangely, their hues shifting bluer for the duration of the spell. When cast  on a creature whose True Name you know, you can set the duration to be up to a year, or up to a decade if the target is willing.

10. Sending
R: Infinite. T: Someone you’ve met. D: Instantaneous.
A message you speak aloud of [sum] words or less is carried to the intended recipient by a wisp of Fog, which whispers in their ear. There is no possibility of error. They may respond with [dice] words of their own.

11. Fireball

R: Within 30 paces T: A point in space D: Instantaneous
The semi-mythical spell of destruction. Everyone nearby to the targeted point takes [sum + dice + highest] damage, no save. Fireball shreds buildings, warps metal, reduces people to ash, and craters the very ground where you cast it. People killed by Fireball are totally annihilated.

12. Power’s End
R: Sight. T: A wizard in a prepared ritual circle. D: Instantaneous.
If you can catch another Wizard of [dice] HD or less inside a prepared ritual circle, you can destroy their magic and render them powerless. If you know their True Name, there’s no HD restriction. The ritual circle must be symbolically relevant in some manner to the victim - the Foglings love that. For example, a greedy wizard in a circle made of golden staves, or something.

When cast successfully, [sum] Foglings appear and swarm around the affected Wizard, eating their magic gleefully. 

The affected Wizard loses their MD, their Transformation, their Subtle Magic, and all of their Fog - they are rendered a normal human once again - albeit, a heartless one.


Perk: Confidant
Your reputation is automatically much better than any other Wizard - people will react with respect and caution as opposed to fear.

When someone confides a secret to you, you can lower your Fog by 1, if you choose. If you ever share this secret, increase your Fog by 1.

1. Hearten

R: Within hearing distance. T: A creature. D: [sum] rounds.
This ends up to [dice] mental effects, such as magical fear, despair, or charms.

If cast with 3 or more MD, the target’s next roll automatically succeeds, or, if it’s not about success/failure, gives the maximum value.

2. Disarm
R: Speaking distance. T: A weapon. D: [sum] rounds.
Your tongue twists in your mouth, and the target weapon becomes completely unusable for the duration - swords are stuck in their sheaths, spears go limp, guns jam and machinery fails.

3. Kulning
R: [dice]*100 feet. T: Animals. D: [dice]*10 minutes.
You sing aloud - all animals in the target area will come to you if they are able and fail a save, and will follow and protect you while you sing. Obviously, this is loud. Domesticated animals don’t get to save.

4. Speak with Animals
R: Sight T: [dice] animals. D: [dice] hours.
For the duration, the target animals are made able to speak your language. This is unpleasant and unsettling for them. Animals are, generally, scared and respectful of the Heartless.

5. Empathy
R: Sight T: Humans D: [dice] hours.
For the duration, you are able to read the feelings of people like you might read a book.

6. Eye Spy
R: Whispering Distance T: An Eye. D: N/A
It costs only 1MD to affect an eye. You may replace the eyesight of one of your eyes with whatever an affected eye sees for [dice] minutes. You can have up to [templates] Eye Spies active at once, and can choose to stop affecting an eye at any time. 

7. Fickle Winds
R: 20 paces T: Someone you don’t like. D: [dice] months.
Curse a target with the wind’s enmity. Whenever they are outside and not touching a wall, the winds pick up around them, tearing at their clothes and hair, knocking over nearby things, endeavouring to embarrass them, blowing their farts at people nearby, and so on. At higher dice, the winds may even knock people over, or snatch them off the earth completely.

8. Exorcise
R: Sight T: An Otherworldly Creature D: [sum] rounds.
You may target a place, person, object, or anything else inhabited or affected by a Fogling or other otherwordly creature. If it has less than [sum]HD, you may cast it out from the target if it fails a save, driving it away for at least a season. If it has less than [dice]HD, you may make whatever it was inhabiting or affecting anathema to it, burning it like fire.

9. Find Lost
R: Infinite. T: Something lost. D: N/A
After a short ritual, creatures of the Fog provide you with [dice] cryptic clues as to the lost-thing’s location. Things in the Fog are always considered lost. 

10. Command Weather
R: A map of the chosen area. T: An area up to [dice]*10 miles on a side. D: [dice] hours.
By manipulating the map of the target area (which can be symbolic, but must feature all major landmarks (even ones eaten by the Fog), you create or control atmospheric phenomena, such as wind, rain, or the Fog itself. The change takes [dice] days to come into effect, and the strength of the weather you declare is modified by dice.

11. Polymorph
R: Sight. T: Any one creature. D: [sum] minutes.
You point, and the target becomes an animal with the same amount of HD they had before. Unwilling creatures may save. You may set a condition for this transformation to end.

If the animal you’re turning them into is symbolically resonant to their personality, vocation and other traits - a policeman into a pig, a bandit into a wolf or a miner into a canary, for example - then the duration is instead [sum] weeks. If you know the target’s True Name, you can choose for it to be permanent until dispelled.

12. Seal Away
R: Touch. T: One creature of [dice] or less HD. D: Until a chosen condition is fulfilled.
Transform the target into a tarlike liquid, a little statuette, or a red smoke, which you then seal inside an appropriate container. They get a save, unless you know their True Name. While the target remains sealed, you have a new Spell based on their capabilities.


Perk: Divided
Your Other Self has become a separate entity in your head - effectively, a full NPC, with a personality like a sibling or a twin. They can disagree with you.

You are conscious even when asleep, and if someone tries to charm or mind-control you, then you can choose to charm or mind-control them instead (placing your Other Self temporarily at the reins of their mind).

You are always in perfect control of your own appearance - you decide exactly who you look like, so long as what you become is roughly human.


1. Charm
R: Speech. T: Any creature. D: Until the target learns a different name for you.
Give the target a pseudonym. They believe you’re not a wizard, and instead are an ordinary person who has just become their friendly acquaintance. They won’t do anything they wouldn’t normally do for a distant friend, and certainly won’t fight for you.

2. Fear
R: Arm’s Length. T: One creature. D: Until they haven’t seen you for [dice] hours.
Scream in their face. If they can feel fear, they do, without a save - pulse-pounding, animalistic, prey-instinct terror, causing them to flee and hide somewhere dark and quiet, if possible.

3. Living Hallucination
R: Touch T: A mirror or pane of glass. D: [dice] hours.
You call and twist a Fogling into an intangible image, depicting whatever you desire. The image must be smaller than a cart, but can fool [dice] extra senses (beyond sight) into believing it is real. The hallucination can also talk, and follow orders. The Fogling returns to the Fog once its duty is done.

4. Make Lost
R: Touch. T: An object or creature. D: [sum] days.
If this spell is targeting a creature, they may save. For the duration, nobody can find the target except by magic, and, if they’re a creature, they completely lose their sense of direction. If the target has a True Name, and you know it, this effect can be made permanent. Only magic can find what you make Lost.

5. Poltergeist
R: Touch T: A glass of wine or beer. D: [dice] hours.
You call and twist a Fogling into an invisible force of mischief and pain. The Poltergeist can move things and people as if it had twenty arms and the strength of a soldier, and loves to do so. It’s invisible and very, very quiet, unless it wants to be very, very loud. It can speak and follow orders, but Poltergeists who aren’t supervised tend to misbehave. The Fogling returns to the Fog once its duty is done.

6. Dream
R: [sum] miles. T: A sleeping creature. D: Until they wake.
You create a phantasm in the mind of the sleeping creature - they see, feel and fear what you desire. You can encode words and messages, but the creature has to save to remember them when they wake up. If you are disturbed while you focus on the sleeping creature, the Dream collapses.

7. Puppet Strings
R: Sight. T: [dice] creatures. D: [sum] rounds.
You gesture at the targets - they must save or you control their movements as if they were a puppet (i.e., clumsily, stiffly and with a slight delay). Ordinary people fail the save automatically.

If you know the target’s True Name while affecting them with Puppet Strings, they believe the motions you impel them to are their own.

8. Dull Emotion
R: 50 paces. T: [sum] creatures D: [dice] hours, or indefinite if you remain in range.
Choose an emotion, such as anger, joy, fear, disgust, hatred, or sadness. The targeted creatures are no longer able to feel it.

9. Glibness
R: Self. T: Self D: [sum] minutes.
All non-wizards and non-foglings treat you as though you were the King of Aelonglas. (Effectively, as if you were King Arthur returned from Avalon).

10. Simulacrum
R: Self T: Self D: [dice] weeks.
Split your two Selves. One is You, one is the Other Self, your choice. If one dies, so does the other. You can only Transform if your halves are near, and this forcefully recombines them.

11. The Magic of the Heart
R: Touch T: A person. D: Instantaneous.
You are consumed by your true feelings (and thus, agony) for the target for [sum] rounds. After this, you have a new idea for a spell. After meditating for [1d12 - Dice] weeks on this idea, (minimum 1), you may add a new Spell to your spell list, based on the ideas, dreams, feelings and interests of this spell’s target.

You also get to know the target’s ideas, dreams, feelings, fears and interests, with which you could quite easily discover their True Name. If the spell you make requires a save, the person you got it from always, automatically, fails the save.

12. Lichdom
R: Touch T: Someone who trusts you. D: Permanent.
This spell can only be cast with 4 or more MD. It is invisible, undetectable, and possibly even unreal. When you die, the target of Lichdom becomes a perfect mental copy of you, with all of your class features and Spells. This destroys their original personality.


Perk: Ash and Clay
For you, tools and processes have a supernatural efficacy - you can batter a piece of hot metal into shape with only a few hammer-blows, make a whole ceramic set with only a stove and a wheel, and so on - as a general guideline, if there’s a task a person can do in a day, you can do it in an hour.

Furthermore, you can destroy a magic item and, with [1d12 - Templates] months of work, make a new Spell themed around the item.


1. Bottle Imp
R: Touch T: A Bottle or Other Container. D: [dice] days.
You summon a tiny Fogling into the targeted container. It has 1HP, and can answer [sum] questions about the Fog, magic, lost places, taken things, famous wizards, famous spells, and other sundry unreal things. It will try its level best to be cryptic, but is bound to answer. It fades once all of its questions are answered, or when the duration ends.

2. Tiny Hut
R: Touch T: Area marked by a square or circle [dice]*10ft across. D: Until you leave the Hut.
The area you marked out is enveloped in a rubbery dome or cube, a material that feels a little like rubberised canvas. This material acts like water to people you want to come into the hut, and acts like iron to people you don’t want to come into the hut.

3. Mage Armour
R: No range limit. T: [dice] specific weapons. D: Until the next casting of Mage Armour.
The chosen weapons cannot harm you. Blades slide off, guns jam, spears go rubbery.

4. Speak with Tools
R: Speaking distance. T: As many tools as you can speak to in one place. D: However long.
You ask [sum] yes/no questions of hammers, swords, guns, chisels, files, saws and other implements. Tools know everything about what they do, and nothing about anything else.

5. Mistgold
R: Touch T: Up to [sum] slots of gold. 100 coins / slot. D: Until the gold is donated selflessly.
The targeted gold becomes lustrous, pale and slightly translucent. All creatures who see it understand it is twice as valuable as normal gold and, if they are at all greedy, will likely kill to possess it. Foglings trade only in mistgold.

6. Fabricate
R: Sight T: [sum] slots of raw materials. D: Permanent
You create finished products from raw materials - you turn trees into furniture, hemp into coils of rope, stone into brick walls, ore into metal, and so on.

At 4 or more dice you can Fabricate natural processes, turning trees into coal, coal into diamonds, turn saplings into full-grown trees, and water into clouds.

7. Binding
R: Touch T: A creature, object or emotion in someone’s head. D: Until dispelled.
If you can tie the target in ropes or strings you make it unable to move from the spot where it is tied. The ropes or strings must be seemingly too fragile, but are truthfully immune to all but the most powerful magic Swords. 

Emotions made unable to move remain in the state they were bound in (i.e., the calm person stays calm and the angry one stays angry). You may set up to [dice] conditions which will break the binding.

8. Explosive Runes
R: Touch T: Anything D: Until triggered.
You scrape, with a burning finger, a symbol of barely-restrained power into a surface. Fog rarely burns, and the magic resents being used in this way. The next time the marked surface is struck forcefully, or the next time a Fogling or Wizard sees the symbol, it detonates violently, dealing [sum] damage to all nearby, save for half. If the surface was anything less than military grade steel, it breaks, flinging 2d6 extra damage worth of shrapnel, too.

9. Refine
R: Touch. T: Any object. D: Until it’s thrown away or deliberately broken.
Target gets a +[dice] bonus to any roll made with it (including damage), and is, in general, just better in all ways. If you know the True Name of a creature that owns or possesses one of your Refined objects, you can force them to become violently possessive of it.

10. Distil
R: Touch T: Any one object, body-part, substance or Taken thing. D: N/A.
With an hour’s work, you transform the target into a potion with a negotiated effect based on what it was, and [dice + 2] doses. Potions distilled from mundane things do relatively mundane things, potions distilled from magical things do especially magical things.

11. Wondrous Machine
R: Touch T: [sum] slots of metal, wood or stone. D: Until you reclaim your MD.
You may invest your MD to create wondrous machines with [dice] negotiated capabilities, such as automata, flying machines, submarines, digging machines, fucked-up trains, etc.
These Wondrous Machines have [sum]*2 HP. Your MD are reclaimed if the Machine breaks. 

12. Transfer Soul
R: Touch T: A creature and either another creature or an object. D: A full day.
The soul of the first target is moved to the other.
Unwilling targets can save unless you know their True Name.
This takes a ritual lasting a full day, which cannot be interrupted, even by rain, wind or the speech of a non-participant. If you target two creatures, they swap bodies. If you target a creature and an object, the creature becomes a sentient magic object and their body dies. If the object you placed their soul into is limbed or otherwise articulated, the person you placed in there can control and operate it.


Perk: Bitter Root
You are especially heartless, now. You are totally immune to mind-altering effects, such as magical Fear, Charms, or the memory eating effect of the Fog.
If you kill another Wizard, you automatically learn one of their Spells.

1. Scorch
R: Sight. T: Anything. D: Instantaneous.
You unleash an invisible fist-sized sphere of heat, which burns and blackens anything it hits. Living things hit by this spell take [sum + dice] damage. Wooden and paper targets take [sum * dice]. Metal and stone ones take [dice] damage.

2. Sense Loss
R: Within sight. T: Something with Senses. D: [sum] rounds.
Cancel up to [dice] senses with a slithering feeling of pressure and pain. Target may save. Senses are replaced by a non-functional Fog-corrupted version which provides no useful input and usually traumatises.

3. Speak to Viscera
R: Touch T: Meat D: However long [sum] questions take.
Flesh speaks with a low, bubbling rumble, with emotion-signals and jolts of pain. You can interrogate your own body, living bodies, dead bodies, hell, even the sausage you had for breakfast. Viscera answers questions about itself, primarily.

4. Grim Fable
R: All who can hear you. T: All who can hear you (except yourself). D: [dice] * minutes.
You regale listeners with a miserable tale of doom and pain, causing them to develop a phobia of [dice] things of your choice, for the next month. People of particular mental will, Foglings, and other wizards may save.

5. Agonise
R: Sight T: One creature. D: [dice] minutes.
Target saves or is wracked with agony for the duration. This agony feels like beestings and spiderbites magnified a hundredfold.

6. Ironic Curse
R: Sight. T: One creature. D: Until dispelled.
Combine [dice] of a target’s loves, fears, deeds and dreams into a painful but not fatal curse with [dice] negotiated effects, and a condition under which the curse will break. If they have more HD than you, they can save.

7. Bitterpox
R: Touch T: One creature. D: [sum] days.
The creature you touch is infected with a supernatural disease which causes horrible coughing, fainting spells, bleeding boils, rashes, overproduction of phlegm and, if it’s warm, narcolepsy. Any creature that touches the infected creature must save or themselves be infected. This doesn’t actually do any damage, and is never fatal, it’s just miserable.

8. Rearrange
R: Touch. T: One creature or object. D: [sum] hours.
Select [dice] features on the target and swap them around as you wish. On a person, features include organs and limbs. Features still function as they did before, even in defiance of logic. Changes revert harmlessly after the duration, unless you know the target’s True Name (should it have one), then the change can be made permanent.

9. Midnight
R: Self. T: Self. D: Until you touch light.
You transform into a cloud of foggy darkness and take flight. While in your form of darkness, you can fly like a quick bird, move through any gap smoke could, can make your face appear hovering in the darkness, and can roar like a lion. Most creatures are shit scared of roaring, flying darkness.

10. Bury
R: Touch. T: One creature of [dice] or less HD, or an object. D: Until dispelled.
You press your hand onto the target - if they are standing on soil, clay, sand or snow, they sink into it and are consumed. Buried creatures usually choke to death, but you can choose to place them in a state of suspended animation. Otherwise, they are flung to the ground, made unable to move but for the terrible weight on their shoulders. Creatures may save.

11. Soul Thief
R: Same room. T: A sleeping, bound or incapacitated wizard. D: Permanent
By conjuring the Otherworldly Powers, you may steal the MD of a Wizard of [dice] or less HD. The Wizard may save, unless you know their True Name.

This theft is permanent, increasing your MD by the amount they had. This invariably kills the affected Wizard. However, there’s punishment for your act - you add the victim’s Fog stat to your own immediately after casting. If the amount of Fog the victim had isn’t known, roll [1d2 * Victim’s Wizard Templates] to determine it.

12. Undoing
R: Ten paces. T: Anything except a Sword or a Fogling. D: [sum] days.
You lay an undetectable curse on the target.

Over the duration, the target slowly (and painfully, if it can feel pain) collapses into dust, removing it from existence. If it’s a creature, they can save, on their final day, to survive the experience with severe scarring. If you know a creature’s True Name, they don’t get to save.

This can only be stopped by Foglings, or by you.


End Note: “The Outshire Campaign”

I can see two ways of doing it: A group of newly Heartless Wizards get up to hijinks after their shared teacher disappears mysteriously, or a Solo Game with a Heartless PC.

Another ideas was a ‘Wizard-Porter’ , the Myrmidon class, where you’re a Fogling bound into the form of a hypercompetent butler for one of these jackass Wizards.

Other classes: I think there’s a… ghost? A fighter? A non-magical cleric? A fog-explorer? Some kind of magical brigand?