Armour of Valour

'You'll never been cold in it, either by sea or land. You'll never be tired when swimming, never hurt by fire, never troubled by hunger, and no iron will bite you. It will protect you against everything, with one exception.'
'What's that?' said Odd.
'Iron will bite you if you run away,' she said, 'even though you wear the shirt.'
'I've better things to do than run away from battles,' said Odd.

- Arrow-Odd, (Anon., 13th century AD)

The Armour of Valour is a chainmail shirt woven together by secret sorceries. It grants the wearer an immunity to hunger and exhaustion, gives a magical bonus of +4 to armour class, and also a +4 bonus to saving throws against fire-based attacks. However, all of these abilities (except the immunity to hunger) are negated whenever the wearer is fleeing from battle. In such a situation the armour becomes angered by its owner's cowardice - not only is the magical bonus lost, but the chainmail will allow attacks to penetrate as though the wearer had no armour at all. After such a flight, the armour will refuse to be removed as though it were cursed. The normal functions of the armour will only be restored when the wearer enters battle once again.

Pointing-Men

"And another thing," said Odd, "while I can scythe my way right up to Alf's banner, still I can't see the man himself."
Then one of the local men who had been with Vidgrip said to Odd, "I don't know what's up with you that you can't see him, because he's marching just behind his banner and never moves away from it. If you want any proof, he's the one shooting an arrow from each of his fingers who kills a man with every one of them."
"I still can't see him," said Odd.
Then the man raised his hand above Odd's head and said, "Now have a look, under my hand."
At once Odd could see Alf and all the other things he had been told about him. Odd said, "Keep your hand like that for a while."

- Arrow-Odd, (Anon., 13th century AD)

Certain people are born with a natural talent for seeing through illusions. If this talent is painstakingly trained over the course of many years, then they may join the illustrious ranks of the Pointing-Men. It is their power not only to see things that are magically concealed and discern the falsity of all sorcerous illusions, but to confer this ability on their allies. All the Pointing-Man must do is point and all deceptions will fall away as long as the finger remains pointing.

Unfortunately, this life of constant mental discipline means that the Pointing-Men have no time for even the most basic of martial training, and thus must always remain 0-level hirelings with 1d4 hitpoints. As a result, most Pointing-Men are cowards and it is often difficult to get them pointing at anything for very long before they flee in terror.

12 Ways to Craft a Magical Artifact

1 - The shirt must be woven by women from six different nations in turn, and never may they lay eyes on one another or the power is lost.
2 - The cloak must be pieced together from the mustaches of twelve kings sent in tribute to the wearer.
3 - The sword must be forged in the fire of a dragon's breath, and cooled in his life's blood while it still pours from his body.
4 - The armour must be forged by the dwarves from metals freely given to them by the elves.
5 - The helm must be made by those who trust the wearer with their lives; should he lose their trust, the magic will fail, but should they die trusting then the power will remain eternally.
6 - The spear must be made by those it was designed to slay; and those who make it must die by it before it can be wielded.
7 - The gem must be swallowed by an owlbear and then cut from its stomach.
8 - The dark idol must be made by one who has faith in god, but to complete the process, the faith must be broken utterly.
9 - The shield must be hung in the sky above the highest mountains and held there for three days.
10 - The sword must be dissolved in the lava pits of Phoenix Mountain, and like the phoenix, it will rise anew when the volcano erupts.
11 - The dagger must not see the light of sun nor flame while it is being forged.
12 - The scroll must be written by an illiterate under the guidance of a blind man.

The first two entries are from Arrow-Odd, although the mustache cloak in that saga doesn't appear to have any magical properties, it's just to show everyone how awesome you are. Interestingly, Arrow-Odd's magic arrows gain their properties simply by virtue of having been made by dwarves. Sometimes I feel a bit sad about how dwarves and elves have gone from being rare and inscrutable spirits to basically humans with pointy ears or short legs.

From the Classics: Drunk Poetry Slam

Among many adventures depicted in the Viking romance Arrow-Odd, one of my favourite is a scene where the titular character is challenged to a drinking contest with a pair of lazy nobles named Sigurd and Sjolf. Now, drinking contests are always fun, but what's striking about this one is that it also incorporates improvised poetry. The drinkers take turns presenting a horn of mead to their opponent, but before the opponent drinks the offerer must speak a verse to them. Each verse is eight lines long and consists of alternately singing one's own valiant deeds and ridiculing the manhood of one's opponent. For example:

You weren't around,

Sjolf, when we reddened

Our steel on the earl

off Laeso Island.

Mad for sex, you

sat at home wondering

whether to cuddle

the calf or the kitchenmaid.

Sick burn! Obviously, as the competitors get more drunk, they become less able to come up with verses, and are eventually defeated. So it's one part drinking game and one part Medieval rap battle.

The following are some rules for simulating such a contest in a game of D&D:

Competitors take turns to present a horn of mead and a verse. By default, each player has two minutes to come up with a verse before they have to speak it. This might be intimidating for some players, but bear in mind that the verse doesn't have to rhyme or scan. All you have to do is tell a tale about your brave deeds and then talk some smack about your opponent. You can't talk about the same heroic deed more than once, so having a good character history will be of some help. Of course, you can choose to make something up, but this will require a Bluff check (or roll-under CHA if you're not playing with a skill system).

The characters' drunkenness is measured in terms of 'sobriety value'. Each character starts with SV 4, plus or minus their CON modifier. Each time they drink a horn, they must make a saving throw vs. poison (or CON save, Fortitude save, etc.) or else take -1 SV. The player's time allotted for composing a verse is equal to 30 seconds multiplied by their SV, so a character with SV 4 would get two minutes, but a character with SV 2 would only get one. A character with SV0 can still compete, so long as they begin to speak their verse immediately when their turn comes around. A character with negative SV passes out from drunkenness.

Contestants can be eliminated by the following means:

- Failing to provide a full verse of 8 lines containing a heroic deed and a diss

- Stumbling over words or hesitating while reciting the verse

- Being caught lying about their deeds

- Passing out

The last man standing is the winner. The game can be played 1-vs-1, free-for-all, or in tag teams. 

Alternate rule set: Ignore all the complicated crap about Sobriety Value and SV and just have each player drink an actual horn of mead when their turn comes around. Do not use this method if you are planning to carry on the session after the drinking contest is over.

Note: I don't know about you, but my players love drinking contests and will initiate them whenever they get the chance. I wouldn't use this system for that kind of ad-hoc minigame, because it's too long and involved. It would work best if something important rested on the outcome of the contest.

From the Classics: Gusir's Gifts

"Ketil Trout took these arrows off Gusir, king of the Lapps," said Grim. "Because dwarfs made them, they bite anything they're told to."
...
Then Odd took one of Gusir's Gifts and shot it like the first one. The giantess put up her hand, but the arrow went straight through it into her eye and out through the back of her head.

- Arrow-Odd, (Anon., 13th century AD)

The three legendary arrows known as Gusir's Gifts have the ability to pass through almost any object, whether it be stone, flesh or armour. As such, they ignore any AC bonus granted by armour, tough skin, etc. but not by dexterity. Each arrow can pass through up to 5 feet of any solid object before it becomes bogged down. Furthermore, the wielder can whisper to the arrow before firing it and exhort it to bite one thing and not another. If the arrows are not given any specific instructions, they will tend to pierce flesh and armour but not walls or other objects.

Gusir's Gifts will never break after firing and thus can usually be retrieved and reused, so long as they do not land in some inaccessible location. The arrows can still be destroyed if a person or creature makes a deliberate effort to snap them in two.

From the Classics: Rule by Dogfighting

"I'm one of three brothers," said Hildir. "Ulf's the name of one and Ylfing's the other. We've arranged to hold a meeting next summer to decide who's going to be king of Giantland. It's to be the one who performs the most heroic action and has the most savage dog in the dog-fight assembly."

- Arrow-Odd, (Anon., 13th century AD)

There is no way that there isn't going to be a nation in my next D&D campaign whose political system is based on dog-fighting. The possibilities for hijinks are endless. It gets better when you learn that the judges apparently aren't too strict with the definition of the word 'dog': Ulf is fielding a wolf, Ylfing has a polar bear, and Hildir eventually gets an even stronger bear which is mad and ravenous after hibernating for six months. For D&D, let's say that the officials who preside over the tournament are a trio of extremely wizened and short-sighted elders who will accept just about any creature so long as it has fur and four legs.

The most obvious adventure potential in this is that the PCs have to find, catch and train a powerful 'dog' of some kind in order to seize power, or to help their ally seize power (maybe you have to be a native to be eligible for kingship). This is exactly what Arrow-Odd does in the story.

There are also other implications if the dog-fight is conducted once a year, and the king is expected to defend his title with the same dog he used last time. What happens when a champion dog is growing old? What will the king pay for a method of reinvigorating his hound so he can rule for a few more years? On the flip side, what happens if the king dies but his dog keeps on winning?

Expect more material from Arrow-Odd in the next few days. I highly recommend it to those interested, as the resemblance it bears to a game of D&D is uncanny. It's got loot, secret doors, clever plans, magic items, a badass villain with a metal mask, and the age-old adventuring tradition of solving problems with fire.

From the Classics: Lapplings

There was a man named Grim, nicknamed Hairy-Cheek because he was born with a certain peculiarity, and this is how it happened: When Grim's father, Ketil Trout, went to bed with Hrafnhild Bruni's-Daughter, her father Bruni spread a hide over them because he'd invited a number of Lapps in. During the night Hrafnhild happened to look out from under the hide and caught a glimpse of one of the Lapps who was hairy all over. That was how Grim got this mark: for people think he was conceived at that very moment.

- Arrow-Odd, (Anon. 13th century AD)

OK, so I know that Lapps are really just people from northern Scandinavia, but let's D&D this up a bit. Lapplings are small hairy fae creatures, related to brownies, but more suited to colder climates. They can craft finely detailed objects with their tiny hands, and for this reason men will sometimes welcome them as trade partners. However, it is well known that lapplings are mischievous and should not be allowed to stay in a human camp or town for too long.

The strangest property of the lapplings is this: that if any woman looks upon a lappling at the moment she is conceiving a child, then that child will be born with thick hair growing somewhere unusual on his body. Powerful lappling chiefs may produce children with hair all over. The lapplings do not gain any real benefit from this, but they find it so amusing that they are always trying to sneak into bedrooms at the opportune moment.

There are several things you could do with lapplings. The PCs could be hired to get rid of a lappling infestation, or the patch of hair could be a distinguishing feature of an NPC. What I would really like to do, though, is wait until one of my PCs is having sex (admittedly this doesn't come up very often in the course of normal D&D play) and then have a lappling creep up on them.