Monday, April 24, 2017

Market Forces

My lesser hobby is Goodwills, looking for old tech.  My lesser lesser hobby is that feeling of amaze when I go into New York Mart in Rockville, not far from my second office... Smells of fish and far away - in fact they have a whole tank full of live eels! Not to mention piles of different noodles and all kinds of shit you never saw in your local grocery store. All kinds of drinks from exotic (to me) fruits, I mean they got durian here, they got pandan here, they got grass jelly... This feeling of amazement reminds me very much of Kabuki Kaiser's Mad Monks of Kwantoom, and In My dreamy over-stimmed state I was prompted by various product names to make some NPCs:

Durian Jackfruit: Hard-hitting bandit of the hill countries.  He is known to alight from trees with a giant gnarly mace and brain merchant caravan guards. It is said he is part marmoset or maybe ooloi but nobody is sure. His parents where Cthulhu cultists, and he has no regard whatsoever for civilized peoples unless they are immune to his fluid-filled Mace of Concussions +2

Mr Squid: Biomancer from the Quadling countries. He has a face like a half-frozen octopus, a head full of second-rate biosofts, and 3 arms ending in triple-jointed fingers.  Maybe it's a 'he'. I don't think it matters too much. He loves to hire less-busy-than-him adventurers to secure rare herbs and organic, locally sourced components of his customized decoctions that will do all sorts of crazy combinations of spell effects for very brief durations. Metabolism is the key, here.  He also is very willing to sell his old biosoft chips or trade them for work or ingredients.  He will give you very good rates for unique ingredients.

Horlicks: Horlicks is a Parrot-Kenku Yobber. That is, he steals safes and other large objects from hardened targets. His specialty is art.  Big art.  Nobody knows how he gets these big objets d'art from tiny windows, but he has like 14 bags of devouring that never get hungry and a portable hole for a wallet.  He's got a nilbog coworker that nobody's ever seen.  Maybe it lives in the portable hole.

Apple Sidra: Apple Sidra is a fox-tailed shrine-keeper maiden at the Wayshrine of the Clam-that-looks-like-a-lotus.  She is always engaged in beating back clam poachers, eel-men, and other unsavory types, or else recovering the Holy Lotusclams after they have been poached (not cooked, but stolen - she hasn't yet lost a Lotusclam permanently). The Blue-Green Lotus Clam in particular is 247 years old and it is said that stealing it is the 4th Step in the Path of the Slippery Buddha, but that eating it will surely cause unceasing nausea until the end of days (incidentally, also immortality but who wants nauseated eternal life?)

Hi-Red Tiger: She is a noodle-saleswoman from the Lightless Lands below and has a great number of connections to the Underkingdom cuisine trade. There is always a line to her noodle booth where one may rub elbows with haughty elfs, Dralasite Miners, Dalek Scientists, Svirnebflin Gangsters, and Yoon-Twai Noblewomen.  It will take 1d8 hours to get to the front of the line, and you get what she hands you, if she is there, or else her understudies do.  The noodles are great but the broths are where the magic lies, as they are slightly psychotropic and very filling.  A bowl will put you in touch with the Higher Realms until you visit the loo or sweat the poison out through your pores.  The good thing is, you can dehydrate while you wait

That's all I got for now, except a bitchin green straw broom that my kid will ride like Kiki does in that movie, a pile of coconut-pandan grass candy, some Pocky, and Black-Black chewing gum. Also, some Korean Ramen that is better by far than the shitty ones we get from Top, and also some Canned Cappucino that I believe is making me hallucinate and anyways, back to work

Monday, April 17, 2017

Almanac of Thrend, Part 27

I have worked on a couple of these 'weird Americana' series of monograph-type things, since it pleased me to lay things out in a clever, pleasing way, and offer them for a pittance.  But I really do believe more content ought to be shared around for free, and not gussied up in fancyboy PDFs and on-demand prints.  They are loosely based on my early life in various bits of Florida, as well as the dreams that I have.  You might say that Thrend is a rough analog of my Dreamlands South-Eastern U.S. populated by anthropomorphic animals and wicked fairies and absolutely no fucking orcs or goblins or other standard fantasy bad guys.  I note with some irony that Today, the day of this post's posting, is actually Emancipation Day for real.  Gods Bless Robot Lincoln and his push for freedom for all robots, constructs, golems, androids, subandroids, and crafted persons

If I had bothered to put in some pictures, just imagine some seedy Key West equivalent, or maybe Saint Augustine, or like the Peace River, Dismal Key and the Ten Thousand Islands area...

The Coral Crypts of Centralia
A system-agnostic rum drink for OSR and Narrative games

I often dream of driving on placid highways where views of scrub oaks give way to the tops of palm trees whizzing by. I can see the clocktower of the local college off in the distance, too. The town is quiet and everyone is off work for the endless holidays in this town. People and other things laze about drinking fruit-laden drinks and washed-out old men hit on young waitresses in their sinister friendly way. They laugh over their rum-drinks and tell me not to peer into the roundabout crypts since doing so would give offence to THEM and so the days are spent milling about looking for obsolete Computron cartridges and admiring the tanned skin and weird floral patterns of the dresses of locals. Everywhere is the smell of suntan lotion and surfboard wax. By the way, I loathe, and I mean LOATHE, Jimmy Buffett but it seems like it’s always on the radio… Parrots and Islander shirts. Little paper umbrellas. After a while, you don’t mind anymore.

There is loot to be had down there in the crypts, and you can hear the roaring of surf like the beating of drums inside the tunnels. Rumors of gold doubloons washed up on the beaches, but you never make it before the tourists have scoured the pink sands clean. Then one Tir’s day afternoon a swarthy dwarf approaches and offers you a parched map to a jackpot of gold hidden away by Spanish freebooters but he can’t get to it. If you could give him enough for some Candwiches and rum, you could have the map; nobody believes in its value and he hasn’t got much left to live with this liver fluke issue...

Fruit and Rum Capitol of Thrend
Don’t Forget Your Flip Flops!

The cutesy tourist trap named Centralia lies practically smack-dab in the midst of a highway to the Southern Isles from up north. A couple more miles down the road will get you to the Million-Mile Bridge, so named because although it is affixed to 127 mangrove islands, reef-keeps, and abbholethsk-lobster dens it actually spans about 35 miles. It just feels like a million miles to drive that way during the heat of the summer months, stuck in traffic, praying for a toilet or convenient reef-keep with a Slurpong machine. The highway nicely bisects the Mid-Kingdom waterway at 9 different locations, and so to accommodate the corpse-barges, cargo ships, and blimp-carriers the drawbridges raise in a staccato hindrance to forward auto-conveyance traffic. Many tourists give up and stop instead at Centralia, which has pleasant-enough beaches and not-too-seedy motels.

The ancestors of the current Centralians, the Mighty Ancients, practiced the curious policy of interring their dead in open pits carved into the coral substrate of the land and using the mighty blocks of leftover stone to erect towers and ziggurats that have almost all eroded away thanks to the acid rains that plague this zone. A few of these towering archaeological curiosities remain astoundingly intact, drawing crowds of drunken college rowdies year-round.  On the other hand NOBODY disturbs the Coral Crypts. Doing so, it is said, would cause the tourist appeal of the whole region to wither up, vanish, die, blow away. You know the drill.  The multifarious fruit-farmers of the region depend upon unhealthy levels of rum-based drink consumption nationwide to drive demand for their weird and exotic fruits, and indeed a college was once erected here to perpetuate the practice of horticulture. The whole  region has given way to pawn shops, thrift stores, tiki bars, Gentle-persons’ clubs, and fantastic beaches that are often awash with Deep One gold and Spanish Doubloons.

As you might surmise, the locals never really took to Prohibition.  In fact, they don’t take well to inhibition generally and walk around almost all the time in various states of undress, ranging from ‘casual’ to ‘very immodest’ to “St. Issek’s Thong”. The biggest local holiday - March-Eve - calls for ribald parades, loud music, drunkeness, and debauchery since The Mighty Ancients arise the following day and capture stragglers and hungover beach-bums to drag into the crypts.  It is their right, as is the custom, and it ensures good fruit harvests and so watch who buys you drinks.

Local Holidays:
Robot Lincoln’s Incept Date
Android and Construct Emancipation Day
March of the Mighty Ancients
Spring Break I
Spring Break II
June Break
Harvest Month

Milo’s Secondhand Electronics Shop - cartridges, weird manuals, milspec, wires, vacuum tubes
Suralee’s Antiques
The Overpass
The Mid-Kingdom Waterway
City Squares (actually elevated graveyards, usually with a mausoleum in the center)
Roundabouts (actually gaping entrances into the Coral Crypts)
St. Athabascan’s Horticultural College
Island Preserves
Ice Barges
Corpse Barges
Dirigible Carriers
Fishing Boats
Whaling Boats
Church of Cypress Knuckle Jesus

Non Player Characters


HoneyTrap Sisterhood/Brotherhood

Emperor Walton McDonald


Fruit Elves - These dryadic fairies live in fruit trees all through this region of Thrend, and it is pretty evident that they had close ties to the Mighty Ancients of yore, whose absence they resent. The had some very long-standing obligations to be cared for in exchange for bountiful harvests, and assurances that the handsome spirits of the pre-human ancestors would dwell with them in Fairy-Land forevermore. Any time the spirits of the dead are rankled, it is reflected in the irritation of the fruit dryads and dryad-men and satyr-things that trollop through the orchards.  They even take the most fetching of current mortals to party with them forever and ever.

Swimming-hole Nymphs - These live in the various cenotes of the region - beautiful and infinitely deep springs worn (or is it carved?) in the bedrock coral of the land itself. They are able to move through the aquifer and above-ground streams to other swimming holes, and they love to drag unsuspecting skinny-dippers into the Elemental Plane of Infinite Hydration, where they usually grow weary of their victims within a few minutes.

Pelicannibals - Not quite harpies, not quite barflies.  They hang around on the wharfs looking for handouts, and are prone to beg for meat.  They aren’t above a spot of cannibalism when times are lean, and will happily trade shiny objects from the surf for cooked meat.  They have strong leathery, bat-like wings that span 15 feet and so they are able to lift less-heavy adventurers as a favor.  Hard to tell if they do it in the hopes of friendship or to drop “friends” from heights, so bring a pork shoulder just in case. Usually infested with liver-fluke larvae.

Salt Water Mummies - An interesting side-effect of the local peoples’ long-standing habit of stacking their dead like cord-wood in the pits at the center of town is that the wind, sea-air, and salt tend to preserve them nicely despite the damp.  These are not reanimated Mighty Ancients (see below) but it is probably that they catch some of the faeric and elemental energies that the region is rife with, and they are obliged to fend off intruders into the Coral Crypts. The townies whisper that if you party in a laid-back enough fashion for long enough, the Mighty Ancients and their fruit-dryad friends will accept you into a rum-soaked afterworld and all you have to do is kill intruders for a pleasant eternity.  Not a bad deal. Sometimes infested with liver-fluke larvae, also.

Jimmy Buffett Whaler Dwarves - Men used to call them Spriggans, but these are diminished, rum-sodden derivatives of the tricksters of the Old Country. They frequent the whaling boats, love rum, and are a dab hand with javelins, spears, and harpoons. They never need to sleep and liquor doesn’t much affect them, and so they are supplied gratuitous amounts of fruit-ales, fruit-rums, and other distilled spirits to steady their aim. They have lost the ability to increase in size, but they never get lost in caverns or mines, although they mostly stay away from the Crypts unless invited. Hypothetically, the ability to change size dissappeared with their newfound fondness for swimming.

Dimensional Man-O-Wars - These things exist on the boundaries of dimensions, and are believed to come from some hypothetical mathematical realm that is accessible only rarely everywhere else but frequently in Centralia. The smell of hyacinths - not really a pheromone but a direct neurological invasion of the olfactory glands - signals their approach and makes victims confused, complacent, and docile.  When they impinge upon this dimension, they appear to be a trilobed shark’s head with several rows of teeth, a whisp-y ventral bulb, and 1d12 trailing tentacles. They freely move through matter, and are not struck except by magical weapons, meteoric iron, or silver. They can be dispersed by methods that would affect gasses since their molecular stability on this plane is tenuous at best. The merest caress of the tentacles causes not only overload of the nervous system of victims, but also dimensional instability as the monsters try to drag their prey into whatever hell-plane they spawned from.  If killed, victims will vanish into some aether never to be seen again, with no chance of recovery.  Luckily, the energies required to maintain contact with this plane are immense and so these awful things may only manifest in our world for 1d4+2 minutes.

Surf Elementals - These fun-loving water creatures are powerful as the tide, and love to deposit swimmers and surfers roughly onto the shore, or if their victims are rude, onto rocks and reefs and into maws.

Giant Liver Flukes - the life cycle of these parasites depends upon the ingestion of raw fish or shellfish (or else spattering with viscera), a period of ill health and dormancy in the victim, and gagging regurgitation of eggs.  After ejection, they grow and seek out the ocean where they do combat with sharks and barracuda. If they win, they consume their foe and become larger, and if they lose then they explode in a shower of gore, infecting their foe and any nearby creatures. Everything in this region is prone to infection by giant liver flukes. Any process that taxes the liver will make one more prone to infestation, and furthermore infection by liver flukes makes one seek these lifestyles out.

1d20 Weird Fruits
  1. Love apple
  2. Ocher-berries
  3. Honeyskulls
  4. Gobmelons
  5. Gibbet Berries
  6. Hellhaw
  7. Blood-drupe
  8. Fluke-lemon
  9. Shadow Cherry
  10. Virgin’s Plum
  11. St. Orbun’s Pome
  12. Vinis Victoria
  13. Addertongue
  14. Dutchman’s Arse
  15. Great Quince
  16. Horsechoke
  17. Blue Fanny
  18. Jalerasp
  19. Hypnomelon
  20. Prometheonickles

DD30 Debauched Bar Names/Tiki Totems
  1. Moaning
  2. Blushing
  3. Raunchy
  4. Sweaty
  5. Drunken
  6. Naked
  7. Horned
  8. Angry
  9. Lonely
  10. Wandering
  11. Bathing
  12. Giggling
  13. Sleepy
  14. Pink
  15. Splashing
  16. Frolicking
  17. Whistling
  18. Leering
  19. Glistening
  20. Throbbing
  21. Hungry
  22. Yawning
  23. Bouncing
  24. Kicking
  25. Crawling
  26. Sprawling
  27. Lusty
  28. Sighing
  29. Satiated
  30. Pickled

  1. Goat
  2. Catfish
  3. Marlin
  4. Monkey
  5. Dolphin
  6. Mermaid
  7. Amazon
  8. Priestess/Priest
  9. Empress/Emperor
  10. Wildcat
  11. Jackrabbit
  12. Tiger/tigress
  13. Werewolf
  14. Wereboar
  15. Rooster
  16. Pelican
  17. Hippo
  18. Portal
  19. Featherbed
  20. Flower
  21. Hothouse
  22. Beehive
  23. Virgin
  24. Robot
  25. Dwarf
  26. Dryad
  27. Husband/Wife
  28. King/Queen
  29. Knight
  30. Marquis/Marquess

Mixed Concoctions (sadly unfinished)

A Die-Drop System for Coral Crypt Elucidation (I mean, come on, there’s like a million of these already)

Laid-Back Bar Patron’s Guide to Random Mighty Ancients (pick like a wight, ghoul, or shadow and tack on like 4 rolls from my random undead table)

Almanac of Thrend, Part 3

I was looking through my notes.  I was going to make a full scenario follow up to my DCC solo module, but I am not interested in it anymore.  So here you go, the brief write-up I did that includes the plans for NPCs/Patrons/Monsters/spells, whatever.  Make of it what you will, but don't sell my stuff, if indeed any of the stuff from my brain can be called mine and not some 3rd generation iteration of Arneson's.  This one had some political statements to make, I guess, but owing to geopolitics I'm no longer interested in making any points life that...

By the by, a young guy in Spain has turned Hounds of Halthrag Keep into a phone app, or so he says.  The thing is done, he just wishes to improve the art before release.  I admire it - it's gone beyond the realm of WHATS IN MY HEAD to WHAT STARTED IN MY HEAD, and I think that's cool


Marbourg is a town with a rich and checkered history.  Centuries ago, when The Comet struck Halthrag Keep and put an end to the interminable wars in the region, Marbourg was a bustling and successful cosmopolis.  It traded with the Sultanates of Korim for spices and silks, the <<PAUL WOLFES>> Ketsu Empire for meteoric steel and exotic weapons, and did booming business with the Underkingdoms of the Lightless Lands Below.  Farms prospered, Justice mostly prevailed, artists and craftspeople thrived, and (aside from scorching magical warfare nearby) people were content.

Then some fool caused The Comet to hurtle out of the Aether and crash into Halthrag Keep!  Some still dispute whether Halthrag himself wished to put an end to his feud with the Sizzling Geomancers this way.  It is conjectured (correctly) that Halthrag was dead when the comet struck his castle and that his lieutenants brought the thing tumbling down to Aereth.  The Comet, when it exploded, showered the land with debris of strange origin, including glowing blue-green rocks and shards of crystalline metal that sometimes seemed to have a life of their own.  All who approached these were sickened, and some went mad, and the whole of the region was covered in flakes and chunks of them.  Cattle wasted and crops rusted; generations of monsters were born to pious women of the region.

Marbourg dwindled and almost vanished, and many of its well-made buildings stood uninhabited, for the inhabitants at that time were skilled builders.  The population moved away and sometimes dwarves moved in and claimed empty town-houses, and faeries infested the sewers, and mutants and foul things ran roughshod through grand libraries.  When the Gorgrin Wars began many centuries later, the refugees of the Eastern regions found a welcoming, albeit dangerous place where Old Marbourgers fought sternly and practically (and without complaint!) against frequent minor incursions of terrible horrors.  The New Citizens and the Old learned quickly that together they might quell the awful things and build Marbourg into a bustling metropolis once again.

That was a half dozen years ago, and until relatively recently things were beginning to look up.  Scavengers and rogues became honest tradesmen, learned to repair the salvageable or leave what was best left alone, and together the Marbourgers established a thriving community in the wreckage of an ancient and once-respectable city.  Punctuated by infrequent dimensional incursions and the occasional Zombie Plague, life was relatively sane and predictable.

Within the past 2 or 3 years, the lonely bones of Halthrag Keep – unnaturally preserved and still shunned by the locals – have begun to stir again.  Monsters flit in the moonlight, and the Keep gathers to itself the lingering remnants of the Marbourg Undercity and the wild Forest <<<I FORGET THE NAME>>>.  Were-beasts, goblinoids, undead, and Things From Beyond stalk the Keep AND the City, too, and dishonest men flock to the <<<WOODS>>> from farther up on the Verlash River.  None know why these brigands have come, but in desperation the Marbourger City Council elected to parlay with them some months ago; a considered strategem and one that under normal conditions may have been advisable.  But these Jackals (for this is what the bandits call themselves) have not only settled in to Marbourg and arrested its financial and cultural recovery, but have taken up residence and infiltrated the City Council itself!  They are akin to guests that overstay their welcome and eat all the food in the pantry, and then charge you for their company.  It is now unclear what the Citizens of Marbourg ought to do – for a scheme has been hatched by the Bandits and their allies to radically alter the pleasant environs nearby with a great project that relies upon the evil stone and twisted metal The Comet scattered here so long ago.

The occasional wild-eyed adventurer that wanders to Marbourg from the Keep tells harrowing tales of hideous monsters, otherworldly abominations, glowing blue stones, and leering ruffians that force them to collect the stones on pain of death.  There is nothing still or peaceful about the ruins of Halthrag Keep, now, and something needs be done.  But first and foremost, the community leaders - especially Chairman Diptherio - must not find out, since it is his plans that the party must undo.  Whispers suggest he has some radical alliance with twisted things to forge evil metals and deliver magickal energy to his masters in the North.


Marbourgers – divided into Old and New Citizens.  The Old Marbourgers are fae-touched and sometimes goblinoid beings, not necessarily immortal but long-lived and wild in the way that Faeries can be.  They welcomed the humanoid immigrants from the East during the Gorgrin Wars, and the New Citizens established a firm footing in town with the more respectable contingent of less violent beings.  Much of Old Marbourg is left unexplored and uninhabited, but sinister glowing at night suggests that much Space Rock may be found in the ruins, if any were inclined to sortie out.  The Marbourgers wish to live unharried and rectify the strange forces that work on the region, for the most part.  Owing to the free interactions between the humanoid Easterners (dark of hair and prone to romance) and the Faerie and demi-Faerie beings, all kinds of interesting half- and part- human faerie folk thrive here.  It is speculated that those in Marbourg without Faerie blood in their veins make up a minority, but the Council has only begun to keep records within the past decade or so.  They do brisk trade with Helix to the northwest and Helleborine to the northeast.  The ruins of Marbourg still hold treasures from quaint periods in the past, and the undercity sewer realm is mostly sealed to prevent incursions from below.  Minor protests regularly erupt in town against the notion that literal bandits now control Marbourg’s politics, but the Town Watch cracks down and those honest men who comprised it in the past have been driven out.

The Jackals – The aims of the honest Marbourger Citizens are undone by the Jackals, who (under the weak prospect of a protective alliance) have infiltrated the City Council and bent the resources of the town to their own ends.  Namely, to fashion a pipeline for baleful energies from Space Rock and Hyperidium – resources that are relatively rare elsewhere on Aereth but ominously abundant in this region.  They cause work-crews to clear forests toward the Keep, they divert and exploit travelers to explore the Keep (these are known as The Hounds), and Citizens regularly go missing – especially ones that are too vocal about the Council’s influence and ties to banditry.  They are led by Diptherio – as suspicious and perfidious a man-thing as ever was known.  He is definitely of lycanthropic extraction and a minor spell-caster who has some control over his powers.  He struck an alliance with the twisted Undercity inhabitants as fast as possible upon his arrival in the region.  He is clever but weak of will and vain, and the pawn of the Cyberlich of Planet Nebulmor - a terrible undead being who is luckily far away in time and space.  His flock of human and demi-human scum is comprised of were-beasts, humans, and the occasional necromantic experiment.  In a twist of narrative, the Jackals have been infiltrated by a New Marbourger group, The Last Honest Men, led by one Ian Gram.

The Undercity Realms – the Trolls and Dwarves and spiteful Goblins that reside beneath the city are only too glad to ally with the Jackals, having been driven below and sequestered from the town above.  There are several levels of sewer complex between them and the Marbourgers, and many of the passages have been destroyed and magically blocked.  Their Undercity connects directly to the Lightless Lands – a cavern complex that spreads far to the east, north, and delves deeply downward.  Halthrag Keep is situated directly on top of one entrance to the Lightless Lands, almost directly on the shores of a vast Underocean.  The nominal leader of the Undercity Realms is an agent of the Elf King, as is his brother - a well respected Elf in Marbourg.  They have unremitting enmity for each other and work at cross purposes without understanding the way their actions fit into the Elf King’s plans.

Halthrag Keep – Halthrag once dealt directly with Old Marbourg and advised them and provided them with trade goods From Beyond, but his traffic with Aetherial and Daemonic entities (malevolent and benign ones) erupted into full-fledged war with several other great wizards.  The Wizard Wars came to a climax at Halthrag Keep, where monsters and legions of humanoid soldiers clashed in a terrific battle.  Halthrag was beaten, executed, and exiled to another dimension, and his guard Captain and most trusted lieutenant called upon a Weird Foreign God for aid.  The best help the God could offer was to crash a passing meteor into the place.  Sadly, the meteor had an other-worldly passenger (inscrutably strange but not necessarily evil) and the meteor itself was composed of chunks of a far-off planet that carried twisting magical radiations.  These centuries past, the Alien Being slept and repaired itself, and when it awoke it set events in Halthrag Keep into full swing: the engines of its craft twist reality around it, and it prompts the dessicated frames of the dead to hunt out the Space Rock to fuel its departure.  The Jackals will not enter, since the more of them approach the more resistance they meet from the magical beings that are called from nearby to station there.  They have taken to sending small teams of innocents inside with the dubious promise of escape and freedom.  Certain promising individuals are welcomed into their ranks.  Also, a terrible Manticore and his pet human boy have taken up temporary residence in the dungeon portion of the Keep.  At the time of the party’s arrival all of these inhabitants of the Keep and its environs are waiting for something; or perhaps something just happened - the events are loosely framed by play in HHSOLO The Hounds of Halthrag Keep.


Diptherio – Bandit Leader
Mr. Harlowe Fluggins, Esquire - Lawyer, financier of The Last Honest Men
Osmonda Porprian – Head of the Marbourg Department of Education, Corrupt, Enchantress
The City Council of Marbourg
The Gram Brothers – Ian, Urod, and Krez; Half-Elves; deposed watchmen and sons of the deceased former head of the Marbourg Watch
Titus Penflit – Silk Merchant; Elf; Old Citizen of Marbourg.  Agent of the Elf King.
Gervid Penflit – Blacksmith and Metallurgist; Goblin; jealous leader of the Undercity faction.  Agent of the Elf King.
Faranid of the Thieves’ Guild; Shapeshifter and Spy for the <<<FAR AWAY>>>
Ouncey – Owner of the Curious Museum of Curios
Campion Pelaghast <<<David VC>>>  Steamblimp Captain
Captain Romajj – Captain of the Purple Sorcerer that plies the Undersea
Bishop Lindelman
Grrranvargyld, The Shadow of the East, and his boy Mathuse

Areas to detail/write up (with the exception of the Undercity and Marbourg, these have already appeared in HHSOLO1, sort of)

Halthrag Keep (practically done!)

The Jackal’s Camp

Marbourg - downtown

Some of the Undercity Sewer region – Home of the DungMother (new monsters: drowned dead, mud mephits, scat demons, sewer elementals)

Some of the Lightless Lands (new monsters: Croaklings with snippet tongue attack, Radrakes i.e. radiation breathing dragon, Moon Elfs, etc.)

Flitterblit (sort of displacer field but maybe not so great on reality)
Wereform (high levels of corruption incurred, except under the light of the moon, depends upon moon stage somehow)

(Half-Patron) The Passenger (interdimensional alien being and tourist)
(Half-Patron) The Dungmother (wise old woman/man/otyugh composed of sentient Elfin trash)
(Full-Patron) The Cyberlich of Nebulmor! – he drives the building of the Ominous Alloy Pipeline to the coast, where the Cult of the Fishmen rout the power to a dimensional portal

Werebeast (-vulture, -jackal, -rat, -spider, -bat, -boar, -hound, -shark, -toad) – the evil version of Daniel Bishop’s fae animal
Agent (Ian and his brothers, for example)

Random ruin generator for Marbourg
Random sewer generator for Undercity
River Nymphs

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