Quellian

Creature

Description:

Enormous, Playful Amoebas

At rest, the average quellian resembles a lump of semi-transparent dough floating in a membranous sac of clear jelly, or an amoeba measuring up to a half-meter across. When active, however, quellians look more like a terrestrial jellyfish or bizarre squid, a wriggling mass of innumerable tendrils that can be as thin as a whisker or as thick as a fist. Extruding these tendrils from their membranes, quellians use their tendrils to communicate, manipulate objects, and locomote (through most often by rolling like a tumbleweed, but quellians have been known to climb, walk, brachiate, swim, and even glide on occasion).

Insatiably Curious (and Practically Indestructible)

Behaviorally, quellians are known for their inexhaustible curiosity, commonly squeezing themselves into any machine or Wonder that can hold them, even active devices or those with interiors that would be inimical to most forms of life (because of radiation, toxicity, extreme temperatures, or simply sharp moving parts). Luckily, quellians are practically indestructible—not only are their membranes essentially impervious to physical stresses, but so long as the doughy material that makes up their “brain” survives, they can gradually regenerate the rest of their physiology without issue.

Quirks:

Communicating With Quellians is...Difficult

For a period of time, the question of quellian sapience divided researchers. Although it was clear that the creatures communicate amongst themselves by the gel-like medium that makes up most of their bodies (either directly, by merging merging their tendrils, or asynchronously/at a distance, by extruding thought-spiders—bubbles of jelly capable of autonomously seeking out and merging with other quellians), and are capable of responding to spoken speech with written responses, said responses always consist of bursts of dozens and dozens of simultaneous declarations, interrogations, and exclamations.

As these messages were composed of an eclectic variety of lexemes, syntaxes, and idioms from numerous languages, this behavior was thought merely to be mimicry—quellians had never written researchers more than one burst-message in a given session—but eventually, a specialist named Hedracaum Harton cracked the code, proving not only that quellians are sapient, but that the reason they don’t communicate with most sophonts is because we bored them. It was a well-known fact before that point that quellians seem to express their internal emotional states by the arrangement of their tendrils (much the same way that a human’s face or Jadder’s odor does so), but quellians are blind, rendering their emotions hidden so long as no other quellian is currently touching them.

What allowed Hedracaum Harton to break through the communication barrier was a question about tendril-expressions, one which caused an epiphany in the quellian that answered the question. While Slow People (their name for non-quellian sophonts) are very boring to talk to, they can perceive emotions in a completely unthought-of way! As more and more quellians learned this fact, their willingness to communicate with Slow People increased tremendously. Despite this fact, there are some concepts quellians have trouble grasping besides sight.

More “Curious Borrowers” Than “Greedy Thieves”

For example, quellians have no concept of personal property, and seem to divide the world into “things I’m touching” and “things I’m no touching.” This fact—combined with their inability to understand “danger,” as well as their near-infinite curiosity—means they often cause mischief by getting inside objects they shouldn’t (engines, machines, reactors, Wonders, and so forth), or by taking things they shouldn’t (clocks, tools, datacubes, weapons).

Although they don’t mean any harm by these actions—and in fact, seem incapable of understanding that anyone would be upset about them at all—it’s almost impossible to keep quellians to keep their tendrils to themselves (especially since they can fit through any crevice their doughy “brain” can squeeze into). As such, when there are machines, Wonders, and objects that should not be interfered with willy-nilly, (such as the air filtration systems of an undersea colony or the gravitic engines that keep an aerial city aloft), non-quellian communities are advised to either A) Prevent quellian entry entirely through the use of forcefields or other Wondrous means, or B) Keep the quellians occupied by allowing them to play with/explore/investigate items, objects, and places where their presence does not pose a danger.

All in all, however, it’s a good bet that if you’ve “lost” something, you can’t find it anywhere, and there are quellians nearby, you should check with them to see if they have it.

Adventure Hooks:

Q: Where Does a Stubborn Quellian Sit? [A: Anywhere It Wants]

To better feed their people, the Voivode of the Amber Pool has recently purchased an 8th-Age brilliant cornucopia. On trying to activate it, however, the Voivode’s engineers discovered a nest of quellians inside. The quellians (like all of their kind) aren’t violent, but they have steadfastly refused to vacate the device, and have prevented all methods of extracting them reasons they will not explain. As the cornucopia won’t work with them inside it, the Voivode is offering patents of nobility and a small tract of land to whoever can solve the issue without harming the creatures or the Wonder.

Playful Critters, or Playing Dumb?

A newcomer to town bears an odd, unbridled hatred towards quellians, spreading rumors that their playfulness is but a facade that hides murderous intent. According to the story he’s told at the local pub, quellians slaughtered his people, and he’s supposedly learned of a device that can utterly wipe out their species, he just needs funds and somebody to help him acquire the object in question. While many of the locals find the nearby quellian nest to be a bit of a bother, few are willing to support genocide, so the stranger hasn’t had much luck so far, but if the PCs hang around for a while, they will notice something odd is going on.

While quellians are pacifistic by nature, something odd whenever to any who get within a few meters of the newcomer. Their brain dough begins to pulse with dark red and charcoal stripes, and the liquid grace of their tendrils change to sharp, aggressive jerks. What’s more, anyone capable of interpreting quellian tendril-expressions will see that affected creatures are expressing an emotion over and over at this man: hate.

Is the newcomer right? Are quellians really as dangerous as he says? Or is it the quellians that have something to fear from him?

The Kaqal Job

Down on their luck, the PCs take a job that seems like easy money. All they have to do is bring a Wonder to the village of Kaqal, activate it, guard it for the next ten days, deactivate it, and come back for their reward. But the day after activating the device, something very odd begins to happen to the quellians that live nearby—their jelly seems to be crystallizing. With each day that passes, more and more quellians are affected, and it isn’t long before one shatters to pieces completely. The people of Kaqal have long lived in peace with the quellians, and many of the villagers try to figure out a way to help the poor creatures.

The PCs don’t know for sure that the Wonder they’re guarding is responsible (after all, correlation =/= causation), but the evidence is pretty strong. On the other hand, their contract was pretty specific—if they don’t run the device for ten days straight, they won’t get their reward. (And their patron is not someone it’d be wise to cross.) Do they wait things out, save the quellians, or try to find another option?

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Chay:wonnoj

Place of Interest

Description:

Sophonts Trapped in Hell Inside a Toroidal Cavern

Stand atop one of the dodecagonal pillars of Chay:wonnoj, look above you, and you will find a similar pillar descending from the ceiling like an oddly regular stalactite. A brief glance to either side will show you countless other stalagmite-stalactite pairs throughout this cavern, each one perfectly oriented in the vertical. Look below and you will find a two- to four-story drop to the sienna-colored muck called ket which serves as the lower bounds of this place.

You would be forgiven for thinking the only boundaries keeping you within Chay:wonnoj lay above and below you—a quick glance seems to show stalagmites and stalactites stretching on forever no matter which way you turn. This vast expanse is merely an illusion, however—though your course may be level and your heading straight, you’d only travel a few kilometers before coming back to your starting point. Thus, the name “Chay:wonnoj,” one given to this place by those who are forced to suffer here, a name that means, “Hell of Many Pillars.” Chay:wonnoj is not a place for hope, or helpfulness, or kindness. It is a place of suffering, of surviving, of looking certain death in the eye and spitting in its face.

Welcome.

Pillar-top Villages, Farms, Treasure Hoards and Battlegrounds

The “stalagmites” of Chay:wonnoj measure an acre across on average and stretch anywhere from two to four acres above the floor of the cavern. Made from a pale blue material (ironically, one known to surface-dwellers as “sky blue”) of unknown composition, the pillars are topped by everything from clean sources of water and fertile earth to powerful weapon emplacements and hidden caches of Wonders that can only be opened (safely, anyway) by the clever.

It is upon these squat spires that the inhabitants of Chay:wonnoj hang on—the crafty Leapupons, the ambitious Emptybellies, the twisted Tusked Children—all eternally struggling to survive attacks by one another, as well as the depredations of the bestial sudkets who dwell among the sienna-colored ket below.

Quirks:

Tusks and Trunks, Muck and Malice

Even if the sienna-colored ket didn’t cling like tar and reek of rotten fruit, the hordes of sudket that swarm within it would be reason enough for the Chay:wonnoji to stay atop their pillars. If standing completely upright, a sudket would measure nearly a meter from the tips of its crustacean-like limbs to the leathery hide of its muscular trunk. However, the creatures primarily hunch over as they scuttle around, the better to blend in with the treacly mass of goop which seems to compose their primary diet, building material, and weapon.

This last note is exceedingly important. Ket is unpleasant all on its own, due to its glutinous texture and foul smell, but when sprayed through the trunk of a sudket, its properties change considerably, metamorphosing from a dense sludge to a light foam that slowly sublimates. In and of itself, this transformation isn’t threatening—if sprayed in the face, for example, the Chay:wonnoji would be more concerned about the foam’s opaque nature blinding them to more dangerous threats nearby)—however, as the material sublimates, it reduces the material of the stalagmites to mush. If found quickly enough, it can be washed away with clean water (which neutralizes it completely), but if not, the negative effects are dire.

Foamed ket threatens the structural stability of the pillars the Chay:wonnoji call home. The loss of the stalagmite material may expose whatever internal mechanisms lie within the damaged pillar (those that generate fresh water, for example, or medicine, or useful raw materials), and in extreme cases, pillars have been known to collapse completely, sometimes damaging other ones near enough to strike. Even worse, when a sudket consumes enough of this foamed ket-stalagmite mush, it buds off smaller copies of itself, increasing the size of the swarm, (and the threat posed to all those who dwell atop the spires).

Pillars Linked by Bridges

Several bands of sophonts live in Chay:wonnoj (although it might be more accurate to refer to their condition as “imprisoned within”), loosely assembled in a number of small bands. Each band of Chay:wonnoji has claimed a territory of a few pillars, territories which tend to include a farm or two, a source of water, and an easily defensible position to serve as a stronghold and resting place. Important clans include the Leapupons (who forego bridges entirely in favor of pole-vaulting and lighter-than-air materials), the Emptybellies (who favor using their powerful arsenal to extort other bands for food ), the Fallen (once known as the Gohnakaheen, who now serve as permanently nomadic scouts for the Emptybellies), and the Tusked Children (covered below).

These primary pillars are linked by permanent bridges of whatever materials are easiest to find or farm (such wood, woven wires, floatstone), while the pillars surrounding a band’s territory are connected with defense in mind. Some bridges can be drawn back to safety in an instant, or cut loose, or collapsed, but are still normally safe to travel upon. The portable bridges that Chay:wonnoji scouts use to explore the unclaimed pillars between territories, however, are trusted only by the desperate or the foolhardy.

Expanding foam that shatters after a few minutes, hard light projectors prone to flickering at the worst time, telescoping poles that require exquisite balance to navigate, these are the tools Chay:wonnoji scouts depend on to explore the world that hangs above the muck, and the sane Chay:wonnoji depend on these scouts if they are to survive the machinations of the Tusked Children.

If You Cannot Defeat the Monsters, Become Them

A few generations ago, a band of Chay:wonnoji known as the Gohnakaheen fell when the sudkets managed to demolish a significant portion of the base of a nearby pillar. The pillar crashed into its neighbor, which crashed into the band’s only nearby source of water. The water pillar itself stayed standing, but the water grew poisoned, sickening so many Gohnakaheen that not enough of them were able to wash away the sudket’s foam-spittle, and so more of their pillars fell.

Eventually, the Gohnakaheen looked like they might be able to win the war of attrition after withdrawing all scouts and using weapons normally reserved for all-out war against the other bands, but then another pillar fell, exposing internal mechanisms that released waves of bizarre radiation. This radiation killed a portion of the Gonakaheen outright and drove others to madness. Those who survived with their sanity intact fled to the Emptybellies, where they pledged their skills as scouts in return for shelter from the sudket, and became the Fallen. The Gonakaheen who went mad, however, were transformed by the radiation of the fallen pillar, changing their bodies such that they are able to make use of the ket like the sudket, whom they worship as the epitome of life in Chay:wonnoj.

The Tusked Children, as they call themselves, do not gain sustenance from the ket, but they can extrude it from apertures that grow in their skin like sucking wounds to become stone-like armor or claws or horns. The process is painful, but they revel in that pain now, welcoming it as a sign of their gradual transformation into their revered sudket. The sudkets, for their part, do not seem to sense the Tusked Children as easily as the Emptybellies or the Fallen, (though they will still gore any non-sudket to death at the slightest touch), a change that the Tusked Children interpret as proof of their doctrine’s veracity.

Adventure Hooks:

Condemned to Chay:wonnoj

It seems the PCs have really gotten themselves into a mess this time. After having committed a crime that didn't seem that serious at the time, they've been informed that their sentence consists of transportation to Chay:wonnoj, which—from the simulations shown to the PCs by their jailers—does not seem very pleasant. However, if the PCs can acquire a particular Wonder located somewhere in Chay:wonnoj within 200 hours, their sentences will be commuted to mere banishment from the city.

Each of the PCs is fitted with a web of matte black nanotubing which their captors explain will facilitate their return, as well as ensure their compliance. In regards to the former, the nanotubing will increase strength, agility, and endurance by a noticeable amount, as well as serve as a teleportation beacon once the PCs have located the Wonder. A simple swiping gesture up one limb and down the other, and they'll be instantly teleported home along with the Wonder.

As far as "mission compliance" goes, the nanotubing can also teleport the PCs to a facility known as the Oubliette of Eternal Suffering, a translocation that can be triggered by a number of conditions, including (but not limited to): trying to disable or destroy the nanotubing or suffering enough damage such that one might die (which will be treated as the latter), activating one's beacon without the Wonder, failing to find the Wonder within the 200-hour time limit, attempting to escape Chay:wonnoj. Making things even trickier, the only information given to the PCs about the Wonder which their lives depend on finding is that it "hums constantly, is really shiny, and emits a gallon of sickly-sweet sludge every other minute."

The Little Sudket Who Could (Talk) (Probably)

After taking a ride in what they thought was an interstellar spaceship (but actually turned out to be a malfunctioning transpatial warp node), the exceedingly nauseous PCs find themselves stuck in a creepy cavern full of sludge, unfriendly bands of sophonts, and a bizarre man named Shaminsh. He seems friendly enough—offering the PCs a somewhat bitter brew that nonetheless gets rid of their stomach issues—but has odd horns of muddy stone and silver wire that sprout from what look like sores all over his body.

According to Shaminsh, the wires in his horns allow him to talk to "Sparky," a crippled sudket he claims to have bootstrapped to sapience thanks to the "talking wires" he shoved into a large gash in the disabled creature's head. While Sparky is far more docile than other sudkets the PCs have seen, it's unclear if Shaminsh is telling the truth about the creature's sapience, (especially since Sparky's legs are very clearly missing). Then Shamnish's story gets even wilder.

Sparky apparently loathes the rest of its kind (blaming them for eating its legs), and Sparky's plan for revenge dovetails neatly with a way to help the PCs escape Chay:wonnoj—the annihilation of that which the sudkets require above all things, ket. Sudkets eat it, dwell in it, and use it as camouflage, but most importantly, they need it to reproduce. Without ket, they cannot make foam-spittle; without foam-spittle, they cannot make mush from the stalagmite pillars; and without mush, they cannot bud new sudket. Sparky—Shaminsh tells the PCs—not only knows the source of all ket in Chay:wonnoj, (a Wonder that acts as a wellspring of the foul sludge), but also a way to reverse its function so that it absorbs the ket instead of emitting it. Once all the ket is gone, ancient control panels beneath the muck and mire will be safely accessible once again, and the PCs will be able to escape.

All the PCs will need to do is follow Sparky's directions (given to them through Shaminsh, of course), find the Wonder, and activate it, all while avoiding the sudkets, the Tusked Children, and whatever other hazards Chay:wonnoj can throw their way. What could go wrong?

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If you enjoy my work and would like to see more stat-less bizarrities, places of interest, odd creatures, and strange settlements, please support me on Patreon or Ko-fi! (Non-monetary support is always welcome, too. Spread the word of the #WeirdGazetteer far and wide!)

Also, please note—The Gazetteer of the Weird and all entries within it are licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License, so be cool. 

Warmglass

Phenomenon

Description:

Warm Blue Glass That Always Smells of Citrus

Lightning flashes, but never the same color twice. Thunder rumbles, but in seemingly deliberate chords. And rain falls, but it is not made of water. A product of a bizarre meteorological phenomenon, warmglass is a vitreous substance the cerulean blue of a well-polished sapphire with a number of strange properties.

Quirks:

When is a Storm Not a Storm?

Although the fall of warmglass is always accompanied by similar atmospheric events which many call “storms,” it’s unclear as to what these “storms” actually are, since they seem almost completely unrelated to temperature, atmospheric pressure, and current cloud cover, having been reported in conditions as varied as clear and arid deserts to tundras blanketed in bitter cold and oppressive altostratus clouds.

(One factor that does seem to affect warmglass storm manifestations is the presence mundane precipitation—there are no verified reports of warmglass falling at the same time as rain, hail, snow, or any similar weather conditions. Based on how the substance reacts to cold water, however, this is understandable.)

Another odd feature of these storms is that they only take place after sunset—and thus, in regions where the sun never sets, warmglass never falls—and while people may speak of their “thunder” and “lightning,” the process which creates these disquieting tones and kaleidoscopic flashes of light remains a mystery.

Warm Ice or Liquid Glass?

As for the substance itself, warmglass falls as a cloudy liquid that slowly hardens and deepens in color until forming a solid cerulean material with similar physical properties to untempered glass (including density, translucence, and smoothness), as well as a few differences. Warmglass has a much higher resistance to scratching, for example, a tendency to fracture into near perfectly tessellated pieces, a fragrant citrus odor, and is always only slightly warm to the touch (around 70° F/ 21° C), no matter the temperature of its surroundings.

This last fact makes warmglass essentially unworkable by any means available to normally glass smithing, which means that those who wish to use the gorgeous blue material for sculpture, decoration, or tools must lay out trays or molds at night and hope that a storm comes. Common warmglass objects made this way include windows, bed warmers, cooking utensils, edged weaponry, surgical instruments, decorative tiles for mosaics, and more.

Want to Get Rid of Warmglass? Just Add Water!

While warmglass is essentially impervious to heat, it is by no means indestructible. Beyond simply breaking into (regular tessellated) pieces, one can completely destroy warmglass by bringing it into contact with water that’s been chilled to at least 60° F (15.5° C). In fact, a single drop of water seems to—for lack of a better word—annihilate nearly ten times its volume of warmglass, causing it to simply vanish without a trace. This provides one explanation as to why this phenomenon has never been reported alongside regular precipitation—it’s possible that it does but no warmglass survives the journey to the ground.

Taking this attribute into account, it is understandable that warmglass is rarely used in situations in which it would come into contact with cool water. One is thus more likely to encounter it as an interior roof decoration or the hull of a lava-traversing vessel, for example, than as roofing tiles or a ship’s figurehead.

Adventure Hooks:

Thought Thief Burgles Killer Krik’ini’arktokra

“Goldleaf” the Krik’ini’arktokra merchant is known for many things: a cutthroat attitude towards business, a habit of applying gold leaf gilding to the spines of their chitinous thorax each time they survive another bout in the House of Pain, and a burning passion to become the central hub of the warmglass trade either side of the Breach. And if the rumors of Goldleaf’s latest acquisition are true, the Krik’ini’arktokra is going to be unstoppable.

When the PCs come to town, they learn that rumors are in fact true—Goldleaf recently came upon a recipe mentioned off-hand in an ancient record, one that essentially “cures” warmglass, protecting it completely from even freezing water, and expanding uses for the material a thousandfold. Obviously, this recipe is incredibly valuable, and so obviously, Goldleaf instantly destroyed the record after memorizing it so that it would exist nowhere else.

But a few days ago, Goldleaf passed out in their favorite bar, which is suspicious, as Krik’ini’arktokra metabolism can normally handle more than a dozen drinks without issue. Even more suspicious is the fact that Goldleaf can no longer remember the recipe for the curing process, and when they try to call it to mind, all they get is a snatch of a song they’ve never heard before, a vision of a place they’ve never been to, and the feeling that someone is laughing at them.

Goldleaf hasn’t told anybody else about the missing memory, so if the PCs can figure out who stole the recipe and get it back, the Krik’ini’arktokra will give each of them 3% of the profits. (And if they manage to kill the thief—or even better, bring them back alive—Goldleaf will pay them a bonus up front.)

A Drug-Related Moral Quandry

On passing through a small settlement familiar to the PCs, they find that tensions are brewing between the human and newly arrived non-human townspeople. Apparently, the humans are blaming their Sephexadon neighbors (who look a bit like six-legged pygmy hippos crossed with a cuttlefish and a ceramic tulip) for the warmglass-derived drug problem that’s been plaguing their town. As a part of their daily meditation, the Sephexadons harvest the effervescent sap from a particular plant that they cultivate which, if chilled and mixed with finely ground warmglass, allows them to create a potent recreational drug called Void.

While humans and Sephexadons’ positive reactions to Void are similar (a sensation of calmly floating through the universe and connection to a greater cosmic oneness), Sephexadon physiology has methods of mitigating the harmful effects of the compound that humans do not. Frequent use of Void essentially causes baseline humans to slowly crystallize from the outside in, a reaction that occurs only rarely in Sephexadons, and even then, only to very elderly members of their species.

The issue seems to be that the Sephexadons revere this kind of transformation as a visible sign that one has achieved permanent connection with the cosmos and believe that the consciousness of a Void-crystallized being is preserved eternally. Thus, they are morally opposed to any sort of prohibition towards the distribution of Void, even to children. The human townsfolk, on the other hand, view such an action as equal to poisoning their loved ones, and if the PCs don’t figure out a way to resolve the problem soon, there’s liable to be a riot.

The Sharp-and-Shattered Sea—A Mafioso’s Vacation Destination

The inland “sea” known as the Sharp-and-Shattered is the result of a storm that rains warmglass in a single spot every single night, which has accumulated for who knows how long. For generations, harvest-clans have ventured out into the Sharp-and-Shattered, gathering the cerulean material during the day and working with it at night to make decorations, tools, and other items, some for their own use, but most as goods sold to tourists. As it turns out, one such tourist was a cybernetic mob boss the PCs know as “Forgiveness” (short for “Forgiveness Does Not Compute”). The PCs owe Forgiveness a pretty significant debt, but if they solve the mafioso’s problem, that debt will be cleared.

It seems that Forgiveness quite enjoyed xir time at Sharp-and-Shattered, so much so that xe brought home a little warmglass figurine to remind xir of the place. However, ever since xe brought the figurine home to xir mansion, an incredibly localized warmglass storm appears to have set up shop in the skies above, with warmglass falling on Forgiveness’ property almost every night. The unseasonable nature, unusual frequency, and limited area of effect all suggest deliberate action against Forgiveness, which cannot stand.

The mafioso consulted a truthseeker, who gave Forgiveness information xe passes along to the PCs. Objects of certain configurations—such as the figurine Forgiveness got from the vendor at Sharp-and-Shattered—are precious to the everlasting storm, and those who take these objects away are cursed by the storm’s wrath, no matter how far they travel. The only way to break the curse, the PCs learn, is to: First, take the figurine back to the warmglass sea. Second, locate the vendor from whom the mafioso got said figurine. Three, kill this vendor and put the figurine into their corpse. Fourth, throw said corpse into the Sharp-and-Shattered just as the warmglass begins to fall. If all goes as planned, once the warmglass hardens over the merchant’s body in the light of the next day, the curse should be lifted.

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If you enjoy my work and would like to see more stat-less bizarrities, places of interest, odd creatures, and strange settlements, please support me on Patreon or Ko-fi! (Non-monetary support is always welcome, too. Spread the word of the #WeirdGazetteer far and wide!)

Also, please note—The Gazetteer of the Weird and all entries within it are licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License, so be cool.

Thymedoron

Wonder (Wondrous Material)

Description:

A Memory-Giver in Any Other Shape Would Look as Strange

No two pieces of thymedoron are exactly alike—a fact which explains why the wondrous substance is also referred to by the common names of “memory sponge,” “memory stone,” and “memory-giver”—but every specimen shares a number of similarities. In appearance and composition, for example, thymedoron resembles a fragment of porous stone made of a dull grey metal that’s both oddly spongy and rough to the touch.

Other features that may be used to identify thymedoron include the fact that the Wondrous material releases an incredibly cold vapor when placed in salt water, it seems to annihilate anything with a pH less than four on contact, and the innumerable apertures of every piece play host to highly animated drops of technicolor oil that perpetually crawl through it like ants in a vivarium.

Thymedoron’s most spectacular attribute, of course, is its eponymous ability to give memories.

How the Memory-Giver Got Its Name

When a sophont touches a piece of thymedoron, the droplets’ near-Brownian motion and spasmodic color changes will turn ordered for a moment, almost rhythmic, the only outward signal that the thymedoron has been activated. It is during this short-lived decrease in entropy that the sophont will suddenly “recall” their thymedoron-induced memory in extraordinarily vivid detail. What’s more, their sensory fidelity is far greater than any personal recollection, and the intensity of those qualia never fade with time.

Quirks:

More Real Than Reality Itself (Forever)

Someone who uses a piece of thymedoron and receives the memory of a moving symphony, or an exquisite meal, or a triumphant victory, may view the ever-pristine nature of these mental souvenirs as a blessing—who would not want to perfectly recreate such an experience over and over?

There are those who do regret the appreciate the incorruptible nature of their new memories, however—they are not always pleasant, nor even comprehensible. Someone may activate a piece of thymedoron only to find themselves forever burdened by the memory of committing vile atrocities, or the gruesome suffering of a loved one in perfect fidelity, or experiences that inspire existential dread so potent it forever festers in the mind like a wound. Despite the platitude, there are some things that Time cannot heal, and thymedoron-induced memories are one of them.

I’ve Got a Lovely Bunch of Memories...

Despite the risks involved to one’s mental health, the possibility of a permanently pristine memory is enough of a draw to most that “mnemo-merchant” is quite a popular and lucrative profession. To further insulate themselves from risk, mnemo-merchants do not technically charge their clients for the purchase of memories (as this could imply that the merchant is responsible for the contents of said memories). Instead, clients pay a fee for the damage done to the merchant’s piece of thymedoron—unlike the experiences they induce, thymedoron is not incorruptible.

Each time a thymedoron chunk is activated by a sophont, it loses a number of the brightly colored droplets within it, a figure that increases proportionally to the total number of uses. After a critical point has been reached, the mnemo-merchant is left with what they categorize as a “useless metal sponge,” which is why the fees they charge only go towards the purchase of a new piece of thymedoron to continue their trade, as a matter of honor.

(Of course, referring to thymedoron as “useless” after it’s been wrung dry of memories is a bit deceiving. True, it’s no longer useful to the mnemo-merchant’s primary occupation, but the material’s other anomalous properties remain, including its ability to create cool vapor when immersed in salt water. This makes thymedoron chunks highly sought after by those who dwell in hot and arid climates—many of whom, funnily enough, may have never interacted with thymedoron in its original context—and these sales often make up a greater portion of most mnemo-merchants’ wealth.)

Perfection’s Price is High

The professional honor of mnemo-merchants demands that they ensure potential clients fully understand the permanent nature of the transaction they are about to partake in, even if doing so would lose the merchant business. No matter the content of a thymedoron-induced memory—even if senescence, trauma, or disease should ravage the client’s mind—no force yet found will mar its crystalline beauty nor dull its razored edges. As the saying goes, “A mnemo-merchant has two kinds of customers: fools and lucky fools.”

But those who would receive a mental experience of such clarity must pay another cost, one mnemo-merchants do not share not out of malice, but ignorance—the circumstances that permit its occurrence are so rare they are not often found outside of scholar’s experiments. In the words of Mindmapper Elech Coronadandrium (a Timekeeper researcher specializing in the subject):

“...the results of these latest experiments make it clearer than ever that any who oppose the Mechanical Mind Hypothesis* cannot claim to do so on any grounds not rooted in opposition to those who champion the theory themselves.** Once again, the overwhelming body of evidence conclusively shows that thymedoron-induced ‘recollections’ were not designed to be imparted into the retro-sensorium of any sophont unable to increase the size of their mental storage space due to the cognitive load they require by dint of the variety of qualia they induce in the receiver. Furthermore...”

[Editor’s note: To spare the reader from having to comb through the rest of Mindmapper Coronadandrium’s research notes, a brief summary of said notes’ conclusion through the use of a metaphor.] If one imagines one’s mind as an electronic hard drive and one’s memories as files stored in that hard drive, the “files” created by a Memory-Giver are not only unable to be deleted, but also much larger than normal—often by several orders of magnitude. And if there is no extra storage space to store one of these uber-files, one’s regular files will be overwritten to make room, a process that can continue to the point where one’s capacity for storing everyday memories may only be enough for a few minutes at a time. Therefore, sophonts interested in paying their local mnemo-merchant a visit, remember: Caveat Emptor.

*An idea espoused by Coronadandrium and a few colleagues that suggests that the Wonder was created by machine sophonts as opposed to baseline organic beings.

**Namely, Coronadandrium.

Adventure Hooks:

Knowing That Something Works =/= Knowing How It Works

The PCs patronize a mnemo-merchant, and one of them receives an interesting memory of a bookish hermit who lived in a sea-side tower called the Searing Spire. In a bit of a meta-twist, this hermit also enjoyed using a Memory-Giver, but seemed to have done so every day for years and years without the Wonder ever getting used up. Apparently, they’d figured out a way to take the tar-like substance that accumulated in the tidepools at the base of Searing Spire and use it to brew a compound that, when slathered on a Memory-Giver and baked for a short while over an open flame, restored the Wonder’s potency completely.

The PC who experiences this memory is able to recall the hermit’s recipe for the miracle elixir in perfect clarity, a fact that would make them very wealthy if they decided to sell this secret to the right person, if not for one small wrinkle… The PC remembers that the key to the compound is the tar the hermit gathered, but not what it was made of, so if the PCs want to make their fortune, they’ll need to make a discovery of their own.

Awake, Oh Dreamers, Awake and Be Free!

Rumor has it that the Retrospectator’s Guild (one of the wealthiest guilds in the already affluent city of Abalijan) has recently gained some newfound competition. It seems that back-alley mnemo-merchants are not only giving away memories to anyone who asks, but they’re doing so for free—a flagrant violation of the profession’s code of ethics. In order to save Abalijan’s citizens from the “ministrations” of reckless charlatans, the Retrospectators are offering a reward to anyone who can provide information as to the identities of these profligates, (so long as it leads to their capture by the city’s Citrine Invigilators, of course).

The common people aren’t buying it, though. Most regular folk the PCs ask about the situation are convinced the Retrospectators are just irritated that someone decided to do in truth what the Guild only claims to offer— the chance to remember a better life than this one. The Guild says the fees they charge are to “Maintain its stock of thymedoron” and that even with the city’s trade deals, the Wondrous material is still very expensive. How then, do they explain, that these self-made mnemo-merchants who’ve recently popped up all over town, each one giving away memories for free?

Sure, the PCs learn, those memories seem to have been mostly horrifying. And true, people who visit the “unofficial” Retrospectators seem different somehow, brighter, as though a new and inner fire burns behind their eyes. And yes, there has been a lot of graffiti lately that all say something along the lines of, “Awake, Oh Dreamers, Awake and Be Free!” but that’s all fine...right?

And You May Ask Yourself, “How Did I Get Here?”

To escape a bizarre and violent storm, the PCs seek refuge in a large manor home, where they’re greeted by a tall, well-muscled neuter person with golden eyes and a bright smile, who introduces xirself as Hafsaht Wanders-No-More and invites them in. Hafsaht explains that the manor actually belongs to Shemender Bilinirk, a former mnemo-merchant-turned-caretaker who has converted his home into a sanitarium for the memory-lost. Seeing that the PCs are unfamiliar with the term, Hafsaht invites them into the parlor to make themselves more comfortable and then shares xir story.

Up until xe came to the sanitarium, Hafsaht believed xe was an “incarnated,” a digital mind implanted in a physical form in order to explore the so-called “real” world (in comparison to the dataplanes digital minds call home). But something strange happened when Hafsaht came to Shemender’s manor and partook in some thymedoron with the caretaker—Hafsaht recognized the memory. Not as something xe had experienced, either, but as a simulation xe had constructed. Before Shemender’s treatment, Hafsaht would have sworn with absolute certainty that xe knew that sophonts of the dataplanes created them as fictions, fabricated “memories” designed to evoke certain emotions, to be traded, duplicated, or deleted at will. (A much easier trick when one’s mind is digital.)

But after staying with Shemender for a while, Hafsaht began to see the holes in xir life story, gaps of knowledge that didn’t make sense. Hafsaht remembered coming from a dataplane and what life was like there, but not one moment of the trip to Shemender’s sanitarium. And if Hafsaht really were an incarnated like xe believed, one would expect to find certain kinds of cybernetic implants in xir brain, if not an entirely positronic brain. And yet, Shemender’s scans show the only thing in Hafsaht’s cranium to be completely organic and ordinary. Thus, xir diagnosis as “memory-lost,” someone who’s used thymedoron so often that their real memories have been crowded out by induced ones, and their mind has confabulated a fictional story of their past to try and make sense of what they “remember.”

The storm outside still rages after Hafsaht’s story, so the PCs will need to stay at Shemender’s manor for the night. However, when they find a note scribbled on a scrap of paper in their room, it becomes clear that all is not as it appears to be in the sanitarium. Even more bizarre, when the PCs wake up the next morning, they do not remember what they were doing before they got caught in the storm, nor where the sanitarium is located, and when they look for the strange little note, they can’t remember what they did with it...

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Patron Content Alert: A Peek Behind the Scenes

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Twice a month, I plan to release bonus content for those who subscribe to my Patreon at $3 a month or more. Today, patrons can check out all the Behind the Scenes articles for every entry in the Gazetteer (since last month, that is). Subscribe today for access to those and more, and in the meantime, I leave you with a reminder of what I created recently…

As always, please note—The Gazetteer of the Weird and all entries within it are licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License, so be cool.

Tellep

Creature

Description:

Like the Offspring of a Moth and a Wallaby

Though none would be familiar with the words “moth” or “wallaby” outside of those who regularly study incredibly ancient records, telleps look a bit like a combination of the two. Standing a little over a meter tall on average, telleps are primarily herbivores, using the grinding pads on the bottoms of their stout tails to strip lichen and moss from the mountainous cliff sides they call home. (These tails are also home to hollow calcareous stylets, essentially organic needles, which are used to extract hemolymph from dead predators. See “Nourish the Body, Poison the Mind” below for more information.)

Telleps are timid, trunked creatures covered in a fuzzy grey material similar to fur or downy feathers, have a pair of heavily muscled legs that end in small cloven hooves, and sport two pairs of lateral frills that almost disappear when folded up. Telleps use these frills as proto-winglike structures to navigate the mountainous territory they call home, for communication and threat displays towards potential predators and rivals, and (in conjunction with the numerous miniature radar emitters at the tip of the tellep’s trunk) as sensory organs to help triangulate the projection of their globules, which essentially act as soft organic bullets.

Quirks:

Edible “Bullets”

If the flaring of their frills or their high-pitched chirping isn’t enough to deter a would-be threat, telleps are able to fire a sport of natural “bullet” at their target with significant velocity. These globules or pellets are densely compacted wads of what is essentially cud, although chemical analysis of a number of specimens has confirmed the globules actually contain far more nutrients (and of greater varieties) than one would expect to be produced by an animal that primarily eats moss and lichen.

While dense, these natural bullets are rather soft and deform on impact, which reduces their effectiveness as a deterrent somewhat when striking armored targets. However, the nutritional value of even a few tellep globules is quite high, and many species thought to have once preyed on the small creatures instead frighten them into providing a free lunch instead, a behavior thought to have evolved over time.

Nourish the Body, Poison the Mind

While the relationship between telleps and their would-be predators is essentially an example of animal extortion, the relationship between hunter and hunted isn’t always quite so straightforward. If sufficiently stressed, telleps are capable of firing globules covered in a coating of sticky mucus. This mucus has psychoactive properties which, while mild if absorbed through the skin, are incredibly potent if consumed. Often, predators that consume these “drug bullets” become so disoriented that they fall to their deaths, and telleps use the calcareous stylets found in their “tails” to feed upon their bodily fluids.

It’s unclear as to whether this strategy is purposeful and telleps are deliberately killing their aggressor in order to consume their hemolymph, or whether their behavior is accidental, as telleps will scavenge other carrion they come upon, not merely animals which they themselves have killed. That being said, the longer a tellep goes without consuming hemolymph, the more likely it is to produce psychoactive mucus, so it’s likely that there is some connection.

Adventure Hooks:

Periodically, Pet Pacification Proceeds Poorly

In the city of Opalmoss, pet telleps have been the rage for over twenty years, ever since Car’Kon the Metallurgist began producing what xe called “pacification studs.” The small coppery spikes, when pierced through a tellep’s upper and lower frills, render it completely docile, no matter its temperament before. Not only will its owner no longer have to worry about the calcareous stylet in its tail or its psychoactive mucus, but once pacified, tellep become extremely affectionate pets. True, the studs need to be replaced every so often as they corrode, but that’s no worry—Car’Kon offers replacements for half-price.

Unfortunately, when the Metallurgist goes missing after their foundry is found melted to slag, there are quite a number of pacified telleps throughout Opalmoss in dire need of new studs, soon...an issue that becomes especially pressing after a few of the creatures lose more than one stud and go feral, attacking all and sundry with psychoactive mucus more potent (and toxic) than normal.

A Heart That Beats on Borrowed Time

The lives of the Amoroni-Saput (the people whose name is shared by the mountains they call home) have depended on the telleps for generations, and the animals are treated as sacred beings, revered for all that they give unto the people. The Amoroni-Saput use tellep hide for their clothing, fur for their fabric, hooves for their glue, radar emitters for communication, and psychoactive mucus for their holy rites, viewing it as a gift from their ancestors for its ability to expand the horizons of the mind and elevate the spirit from this tellurian plane. However, when Saumhoornil (an old Amoroni-Saput friend of theirs) finds them, the PCs learn something has gone terribly wrong with the telleps of the mountains.

For the last season, tellep mucus has somehow changed, becoming more varied in color, intensity, and effect. This has drastically affected Amoroni-Saput shamans’ abilities to perform birth welcomings, marriages, and funerary rites, and worst of all, their most ancient and revered shaman has seemingly been poisoned by the latest batch of altered mucus. Saumhoornil asks for their help in uncovering the cause behind this change and explains that time is running out—for the PCs’ friend and the shaman. It seems that the poisoned shaman is Saumhoornil’s only living family member, and to keep them alive, Saumhoornil has performed imqi’ohqi, a ritual where a healthy member of the tribe gives up some of their blood to one who is in need, replacing it with godtears, to be changed back into regular blood with a tellep mucus-derived compound.

Normally, one only gives up a fifth or a quarter of one’s blood in imqi’ohqi, but Saumhoornil gave up nine-tenths of theirs, and without untainted mucus to change the godtears in their veins back into blood, the PCs’ friend will surely die. Until that point, however, Saumhoornil’s status as imqi (more powerful than any in Amoroni-Saput history) gives them an insight into the realm beyond this one, an insight that tells them the PCs are the key to healing the telleps and saving their life.

Would-Be Shepherds Would Do Well to Remember “Caveat Emptor”

The PCs stay the night at a small farmhouse with a gregarious family of tokasheru (five-legged sophonts with an affection for simple living, hard work, and total pacifism). It seems the tokasheru have decided to take up tellep farming in an effort to add some flavor to their diet that meets with their high philosophical standards. Up until recently, they’d depended on a Wonder capable of creating a nutritious, if exceedingly bland, gruel, but when a traveling merchant passed by a few tendays past, the tokasheru used the last of their savings to purchase a small herd of telleps. The globules harvested from the telleps would not only be a welcome addition to their meals, but they could sell them for extra money as well.

Unfortunately, the PCs’ hosts explain, if the telleps do not regularly feed on hemolymph, their globules become coated with a disgusting mucus. (The tokasheru are immune to its psychoactive properties, but it utterly ruins the organic projectiles as a source of food for them.) Although they hesitate to ask, the tokasheru would greatly appreciate if the PCs could bring back any dead arthropods they find on their travels in the nearby area.

If the PCs accept the quest and slay an arthropod, they’ll soon find themselves traveling alongside the robotic merchant described by their tokasheru friends—a member of the Eukeynes Consolidation, in fact. The telepresence drone remarks on the PCs’ bounty, and inquires as to whether they’d be interested in its latest offering: an exceedingly realistic (albeit, synthetic) arthropod “corpse” that comes complete with a hemolymph dispenser, as well as a month’s supply of hemolymph pellets to fill it—just add water!

Will the PCs react kindly to a merchant who dealt their pacifist friends a bad hand? Are they willing to upset the powerful economic force that is the Eukeynes Consolidation? Can they figure out a way to beg, borrow, or steal the hemolymph? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

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Carnon Furrows

Place of Interest

Description:

More Than It Appears to Be

For centuries, the barren lava plains of Carnon were avoided by all but the most dedicated (or desperate) of travelers. A handful of tribes who hunted the steppes surrounding Carnon would use the rippling expanse of basalt as meeting grounds for ritual combat or purification dances, but it was many years before anyone learned of the strange things that flourished beneath the sterile stone.

Bizarre Hidden Gardens

A section of the Carnon lava plains appears to be a long and regular series of furrows, as though some great power took a plow to the basalt but left it barren.  Most are roughly a kilometer long, and measure fifteen meters deep and wide. Some of the furrows have kinks along their length and seem to wind in serpentine patterns, while a scattered few intersect those beside them in short diagonal lines, as though letters in some enormous abecedarium.

The latter was a theory once posited by Timekeeper scholars traveling overhead by aerostat, but the true nature of the Carnon Furrows was realized on the discovery of hatches designed to blend in with the stone around them. Those bold enough to open one of these hatches and go through it found themselves in massive chambers nearly filled to bursting with a riot of alien flora and fauna.

Quirks:

Garden or Accident of Nature?

 There are a number of opinions as to the true nature of the Carnon Furrows, with most scholars proclaiming allegiance to one of two camps: the Gardeners and the Naturalists

The Gardener faction believes that an unknown ancient race of beings (referred to, coherently, as the Gardeners) either created or found the furrows in the lava plains of Carnon and deliberately seeded them with life. Evidence that supports this claim include the hatches into the underground chambers (which smoothly open with a light touch in the correct place, but otherwise remain sealed tight) as well as the mirrorichalcum "airlocks" that block off the hatch antechambers from the "gardens" themselves (not to mention the Wondrous "mittens" that rest in the cubical depressions set into the walls of the antechamber, which are necessary to navigate the gardens safely). 

The Naturalist faction concedes that the hatches, the airlock walls, and the mittens all appear to be purposefully manufactured objects, however, neither their nature nor their presence near the gardens necessitates that the gardens themselves be constructed. It's completely possible for the so-called "Gardeners" simply found the furrows as they were, and created the hatches, airlocks, and mittens to take advantage of this strange location that they'd found.

In either case—Gardeners or no Gardeners—those wishing to explore what lies beneath the Carnon Furrows had best put on their mittens in the antechamber before traveling through the shining metallic airlock that leads into the gardens themselves.

Dark, Hot, Humid, and Rotting

The first thing an explorer will notice on passing through the mirrorichalcum wall is that the chambers are completely dark. With the proper finger movements, the mittens can create strobing lights, but be warned—the effect can be disorienting, so use it with caution. Almost at the same time as the darkness, one may notice that the best word to describe air of the gardens (which is breathable to most common humanoid species) is "intense." From its smell of putrefaction to its incredibly high heat index, the gardens' environment was clearly designed for the comfort of its inhabitants, and no one else.

Inhabitants of the Gardens

If one translocated a 21st-century biologist to gardens beneath the Carnon Furrows and asked them to describe the primary fauna that dwell there, the answer would most likely involve a lot of screaming, flailing, and peeing of their pants.* The former is a perfectly safe activity in the Gardens—the creatures most refer to as "legbeasts" seem unable to perceive sound in any way. However, the latter two activities would quickly lead to the unfortunate scientist's demise, as legbeasts are extraordinary at sensing heat, scent, and air currents.

A suitably rigorous dissection of these creatures has not yet been achieved by modern scholars, however, tales told by explorers and natives local to the area describe them as being composed almost entirely of long segmented legs like whips, finely scaled tentacles that end in squat ridged claws, and feathery antennae that never seem to stop moving. Living legbeasts seem to be sessile, with each one taking up station in the ceilings of the furrows and never moving from this location until death. (Interestingly enough, while legbeasts don't travel away from their "spot," they do slowly turn in place, rotating either clockwise or counter-clockwise. An especially long pair of limbs held just above the surface of the ceiling thus marks out their territory, a border which newly spawned legbeasts cross at their own peril.

Protective Mittens and Other Safety Gear

Of course, if our time-traveling biologist happened to have their breakdown while wearing a pair of protective mittens, they'd be fine (so long as they were appropriately armored, of course). The mittens seem to masks their wearer's heat and scent signatures, making them almost completely undetectable to the legbeasts. Would-be explorers should be advised, however, that legbeasts are by no means hesitant to use their claws, however, even if their whip-like limbs detect something that turns out not to be food. (As such, crush-resistant clothing is advised.)

Flora, Fauna, and "Other"

Speaking of food, the legbeasts seem to depend completely on the growths of what the locals call the meatpod bush. When stimulated simultaneously by all three types of a legbeasts' limbs, the numerous thorny limbs of the bush contract to reveal a central stalk, which then vomits out a hot, stinky sack of what seems for all the world to be an animate hunk of meat. The "meatpod" is capable of leaping short distances through rapid contractions, and seems custom-made to be a legbeast's ideal snack appealing to its sense of touch, heat, and smell.

When not eating meatpods, legbeasts spend most of their time interacting with the plants, fungi, moss, and other vegetative lifeforms that make up the fecund abundance of the gardens. Though a difficult prize to recover, numerous scholars have made names for themselves by distilling this odd flora into all sorts of compounds.

Adventure Hooks:

Solving the "Gardener/Naturalist" Debate, Once and For All

A Timekeeper scholar named Hebbadon Floon is not only certain that the gardens of the  Carnon Furrows were deliberately constructed, but they also have reason to believe that it was the legbeasts themselves who built them. To prove their hypothesis, however, (not to mention repair their somewhat abused reputation among their fellow scholars), Hebbadon needs undeniable proof. 

That proof should be relatively easy to acquire (thanks to Hebbadon's...unofficial requisition of a Wonder that should facilitate communications with the creatures), but the journey to the lava plains will be full of peril, not to mention the atmosphere of the furrows themselves. As such, Hebbadon is seeking a group of adventurers to safeguard them over the course of the trip, with payment rendered in advice as to the most valuable types of flora found within the gardens.

War Comes to the Plains of Carnon

While Carnon's basalt plains are no strangers to blood spilled in ritual combat, or even small-scale skirmishes between tribes when times are desperate, war the likes of which has never been seen by the locals is coming. It seems that the Voivode of Bitterburning, the Apodektai of Tenth Wisdom, and the Edictor of Everlasting Light each had a dream of revelation.

In this dream, the leaders learned that if one were to view the Carnon Furrows from above, the pattern they create (when properly interpreted) will not only spell out the location of an ancient superweapon, but also give one mastery of it as well. As the peace between the three nations is an uneasy one, to bring anything less than overwhelming might to the lava plains is to risk one of the other nations decoding the clues first. Now the armies of three nations are headed to the plains, and it's quite possible the gardens beneath them may be destroyed forever,

Those Who Steal a Monster's Dinner Might Become One

In the last decades, a quartet of tribes has formed a more permanent settlement in the steppes close to the Carnon Furrows. Though they have their herds of scriggles and telleps, the land is harsh and food is often scarce. With the discovery of a fracture in the side of one of the underground gardens and careful attention paid to how the legbeasts interact with the meatpod bushes, particularly brave villagers have taken to regularly harvesting the legbeasts' snacks to supplant the bolster the communal larder when times grow tough.

However, it seems that sufficiently hungry legbeasts aren't quite as sessile as everyone thought, and some are now leaving their gardens to search for other forms of sustenance...

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If you enjoy my work and would like to see more stat-less bizarrities, places of interest, odd creatures, and strange settlements, please support me on Patreon or Ko-fi! (Non-monetary support is always welcome, too. Spread the word of the #WeirdGazetteer far and wide!)

Also, please note—The Gazetteer of the Weird and all entries within it are licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License, so be cool.

*A more stoic or well-temporally traveled biologist might compare them to whip spiders. 


Keepers of the Eternal Timepiece

Organization

Description:

Put most simply, the Keepers of the Eternal Timepiece (often called “Timekeepers”) is an organization of scholars, teachers, engineers, and explorers dedicated to studying the artifacts and ruins of the past. A fundamental Timekeeper belief is that many things may be unknown, but nothing is unknowable. The key to understanding the powerful artifacts built by the ancient ones who came before us lies in observation, experimentation, and very detailed notes.

The Timekeepers understand that their profession can be a dangerous one, however, both to themselves and the wider world. Every junior scholar, grease monkey, lecturer’s aid, and cartographer’s apprentice is taught the lesson of the lamp: The flame that brightens the darkness and warms the winter can just as easily consume the page and burn the flesh. But unlike their allies in the Order of the Immovable Anchor, Timekeepers do not fear the discoveries of the past. They rejoice in them.

The artifacts and machines and creatures built by those long ago are proof that mortal minds once understood the universe well enough to shape it to their will, and the mission of the Keepers of the Eternal Timepiece is to reclaim the lost knowledge of the past and ensure it’s wielded responsibly moving into the future.


Emblem:

A black isosceles triangle with eight glyphs running along its edges (24 different ones in total). Inside the triangle is a toothed circle, and inside the circle is a vertical bar with notches at the 0, 1, 1, 2, 3, and 5 marks.

The triangle represents the mountain where the Eternal Timepiece was first discovered, and the 24 glyphs are the the Clockmakers’ syllabary, the ancients who built the Eternal Timepiece. The toothed circle represents a gear, one of the many kinds used in the ancient clock’s mechanical computers, while the notched bar is marked with the first six of the Fibonacci numbers, keys to the Clockbuilders’ mathematics.


Motto:

“Nothing is Unknowable, Merely Not Yet Known”


Prominent Figures:

1028 Inveterate Archivist

The common view of Timekeeper scholars sees them as academics nestled in caves of datacubes, or in the more romantic mode, as brilliant-but-clumsy researchers who suddenly spy a connection between two disparate pieces of information that’s bound to change the world. In reality, Timekeeper scholars (also called “mindmappers” after a graphical method of visually organizing data to better understand it) are expected to be methodical, not easily bored, and passionate about their chosen subject matter. This doesn’t mean they don’t count geniuses among their number, however. One of the most brilliant mindmappers of the current age is, for example, 1028 Inveterate Archivist.

Often referred to simply as “1028,” xe is a neuter humanoid of middling height, a calm temperament, and an organic composition. Xir only “distinguishing” physical characteristics are xir eyes (which appear to be solid steel spheres in xir eye sockets, though do not affect xir sight in any way), as well as xir utterly black skin (which appears to be made of some kind of organic fractal nanotubing).

1028 originated as an experiment by an unknown organization, and while xir memories of that time are inaccessible—thought to be a result of whatever explosion destroyed the laboratory and facilitated xir escape—1028 remembers that the project’s purpose was to create “Paragons”: sane and stable individuals that excelled in a single field, both physical and mental. Xe also remembers that xe wasn’t the only Paragon, but xe can’t remember anything about the others in particular.

As can be discerned from xir name, 1028’s specialty is the organization of information, and there is no Timekeeper that hasn’t murmured a paean to 1028’s system at one point or another. No matter how exotic the media nor degraded its message, 1028 Inveterate Archivist is up to the challenge of storing and categorizing it, which is why most Timekeepers call the organizations archival system the “I.A.” (Also, it should be noted that there is a long-running betting pool which may be claimed by the first person to stump 1028 on the location of an individual record. 1028 has yet to lose a challenge.)

chaNamarand Seko

Although Timekeeper engineers are commonly called “clocktenders” due to the link between the organization’s origins and the Eternal Timepiece, the interest of these engineers often extends far beyond mere timekeeping. Clocktenders not only maintain the many devices, artifacts, and Wonders used by their fellow Timekeepers, but also use their skills and knowledge to modify preexisting Wonders, as well as study the principles behind their operation and create entirely new ones (an ability viewed with great suspicion by even the organization’s closest ally, the Order of the Immovable Anchor).

Starting out, would-be clocktenders begin their training as grease monkeys, tool gofers, and perform other menial duties, though their labor is punctuated by sessions of intense hands-on training as well. Apprentices soon learn the different qualities of materials, capabilities of tools, the methods by which a schematic may be created and interpreted, and more. To ascend to the ranks of true clocktenders, an apprentice must first prove themselves capable of distilling the possible from the merely probable, and secondly, transforming the possible into the actual. The person they have to prove this to? chaNamarand Seko.

Originally a Namarand nomad of the Guldavi Waste, Seko was exiled at the age of seven (thus the cha- suffix in front of her clan-name) after her curiosity compelled her to try and repair the water still at a brackish oasis. Seko’s failure destroyed the still completely, and for the crime of willfully questioning the beneficence of the Water God, she was cast out. On that day, Seko learned two lessons. The first was that one cannot fully trust what one does not understand, and second, while the consequences of one’s failure may be wisdom, they may also be death. (As the welded sign says above her door, “Measure Twice, Cut Once, and Trust Nothing.”)

After creating the schematic for their masterwork, would-be clocktenders must bring it to chaNamarand Seko, who will interrogate them about it. There are rumors that this is the test itself, and that no matter what one builds after this conversation, Seko’s mind has already been made up, but nothing officially supports this conclusion. Seko’s questions are often piercing, and no question asked of her about one’s masterwork will be answered. The clever apprentice will be sure to record the questions asked of them, however, a key flaw has been discovered by many an apprentice who thought twice about what seemed to be a stray observation by Seko at the time...

In addition to her duties as the valve through which apprentices become engineers, chaNamarand Seko dabbles with a variety of musical instruments of her own design and construction. A concert featuring her inventions is as much about the mechanical workings of the objects that make music as the music itself, and tickets are highly sought after by Timekeepers and outsiders alike.


Important Organization Facts:

Revelation in the Mountain

Many years ago, a group of scholars and explorers stumbled upon a trove of ancient knowledge hidden deep within a mountain. Their key discovery was of an ancient Wonder, one that had been keeping time for innumerable ages, which they called the “Eternal Timepiece.” The device, as well as the educational materials found within the mountain, was proof that “mere mortals” were capable of creating Wonders, and that no matter how arcane or bizarre the world may seem, with the correct tools, it is possible not only to understand it but also shape it as well.

This was quite a heterodox position to take at the time—common sense, people believed, said that the bizarre artifacts found in ruined facilities were obviously placed there by malevolent gods as temptations for the foolhardy, or they were gifts from trickster spirits, or they were the pride of the ancient ones made manifest in the world, that sort of thing. The idea that a person—a mere mortal like anyone else—could have ever been capable of creating such puissant devices was a view only espoused by the ignorant or the deranged.

So when the Timekeepers’ founders announced their discovery, that a mountain fastness held evidence to show that while their theory was heterodox, it was also correct, the powerful did not receive the news in good humor.

Hide the Flame, Lest Others Quench It

Countless rulers of structures political, religious, commercial, and more claimed some measure of legitimacy from the unknowable origins of their Wonders. These rulers used their supernatural possessions and holdings as proof of their right to govern, claiming that they had been chosen by the gods to do so, or bested the spirits of the Other Side for the honor, that sort of thing, Many of them, no doubt, believed the stories that they told. But the idea that the ineffable marvels of the world could be explained as the inventions of mere mortals was untenable, and as the Keepers of the Eternal Timepiece wouldn’t stop spreading that “lie,” the powers of the world vowed to stamp them out. And so began the Years of Darkness.

The Years of Darkness

During this time, any accused of being a member of the Keepers of the Eternal Timepiece faced terrible persecution, especially due to the fact that being accused of being a member was as being one, no matter the proof, and countless innocents lost their lives for the price knowing too much about geometry, for peering too deeply into the well of the past, or for having an interest in old ruins. Many Timekeepers hid in these old ruins through the Years of Darkness, trusting that few would stumble onto them accidentally if they dwelt deeply in the heart of “tainted” lands, for fear of being thought a Timekeeper themselves.

Necessity and hostile conditions honed the critical thinking skills and encyclopedic memories of many Timekeepers as they struggled to stay alive during the Dark Years, but for every artifact found or discovery made, the candle flames of far too many brilliant souls were snuffed out as well.

As for the Eternal Timepiece, it was thought fitting to safeguard it from those who would destroy what they do not understand through the use of time itself—the Founders detonated the only ten-star Obsidian Egg ever to be discovered right next to it. The area of effect was quite small, barely covering the whole of the hastily cleared-out chamber, but the first Timekeepers ensured that the device that inspired their organization’s’ birth would still be accessible to whosoever found them in the future, no matter how the War Against Reason fared.

Timekeepers Out in the Open

Eventually, attitudes towards the Keepers of the Eternal Order softened, with many seeing the learned first as valuable resources, and then as forces for progress. True, “common knowledge” says Timekeepers worship the Eternal Timepiece or the Founders who kept it safe. Though this misconception is corrected whenever it is found, Timekeepers agree that it’s an understandable position—they do venerate the ancient ones who built the Eternal Timepiece and the vault to protect it, as well as everyone who kept the metaphorical lamp of knowledge alight during the Years of Darkness, founders and regular Timekeepers alike.

To honor these sacrifices, Timekeepers use the syllabary and spoken language of the ancient ones as their official written and spoken tongue. (It also helps that faculty with this language makes comprehending historical artifacts and ruins somewhat easier, of course.) While few people besides the Timekeepers themselves speak or write Ancient as their native tongue, its usefulness in trade and diplomacy have caused it to spread quickly as a second language, much to the organization’s delight. After all, communication is key to understanding, and understanding is key to the Timekeepers.

Also key to the Timekeepers—ensuring that the legacy of the Clockmakers and the Founders does not wind down, but continues every onward, just as the Eternal Timepiece itself. To that end, there are as many explorers and teachers among the organization as there are engineers and scholars. Many a small community owes their understanding of hygiene, or the literacy of their children, or the repair schematics for certain devices to the Timekeepers who shared that knowledge with them.


Adventure Hooks:

Lessons Lamplighters Do Not Want to Teach

The PCs have been asked by the Keepers of the Eternal Timepiece to assist one of their number in the humble double-village of Llaidwithyn-Garn (so long as one stands on the eastern shore of the Great Rill, of course, or else it’d be referred to as Garn-Llaidwithyn). The individual in question is a synthetic being called “Adhoc” who’s served as the double-village’s only lamplighter after their last teacher passed away. By all accounts, Adhoc has been very successful in convincing the locals the virtues of education, but has recently reported issues with the spread of Nightrager ideology in the area, especially among some of her more easily influenced students.

When the PCs reach Llaidwithyn-Garn, they spy a group of Nightrager toughs following a thin woman who is very pointedly not acknowledging them. From the lamplighter scarf around her neck (a tessellation of black and white hexagons), this is clearly the person who they’ve been sent here to see. Before the PCs can intervene, however, Adhoc rounds a corner where they can see her, but the toughs cannot.

In an instant, she transforms everything from her clothing to her posture to her species. The underside of her scarf is a pale grey, which she throws over her shoulders as a sort of shawl as she seems to lose a foot of height. Her face undergoes an even more impressive transformation, with her features shifting and warping to accommodate a sucker-like mouth full of sharp hairs as well as a trio of serrated horns that sweep up from above her eyebrows. When the toughs finally turn the corner to see their quarry fled and their only sport a notoriously touchy (and venomous) Dliglossamal, they turn back the way they came, now raising their voices in a chant-song as vile as it is out of tune.

After a moment, Adhoc spies the PCs and heads their way, reverting back to her original form as she does so. “Oh,” she says, “I’ve been expecting you. Come to the schoolhouse and I’ll explain the issue.” It turns out Adhoc does need help with the Nightragers, and she is worried about violence, but not in the way the PCs might expect. “I was originally programmed for infiltration and assassination,” she says, her hands shifting into blades and needles as easily as someone else might crack their knuckles. It seems that Adhoc wants the PCs to handle the gang because if she does, she’ll kill them all, and she wouldn’t be able to bear what that’d do to her students.

Podilious Cristilamin Nwahr and His Last Crusade

According to Podilious Cristilamin Nwahr, no explorer nor adventurer has ever traveled as far as he has, escaped death as many times as he has, or smoked as many pipes of foul-smelling geargrinder as he has. If one were to ask his fellow farseekers of the Keepers of the Eternal Timepiece, it would seem that, despite his grandiloquent claims, Nwahr actually is quite the explorer. Or at least, he was. The farseeker’s age is catching up with him, and the PCs have been asked to accompany the “living legend” on what will be his last expedition before he retires to write his memoirs.

The trip will take them to a ruined facility half-buried beneath a glacier. And while the ancient machines and dead modular robots are certainly fascinating, things get hairy when some sort of subterranean quake drops a hundred tons of ice and rubble on their only way back out. Nwahr is confident that heading deeper into the facility is the way to freedom, and unable to shake the intractable old explorer’s confidence in his assertion, the PCs follow along, careful not to lose their footing on the greasy little pellets of amethyst scattered here and there the floor.

As they descend—the frequency of the pellets slowly rising the deeper they go—Nwahr displays a casual mastery of several ancient languages (not to mention a seemingly endless repertoire of dirty jokes), although it’s the former skill that most comes in handy when he suddenly stops, brushes aside a small drift of pellets with his foot, and reveals a blue enamel starburst set in the floor. The old man’s knees pop as he hunkers down and traces seemingly random scratches in the surface of the starburst with the tip of his finger. He mumbles to himself for a moment before nodding, standing up again with a grimace, and says, “Welp, I don’t plan on starting an apocalypse today, so you listen up and listen good.”

It seems that the starburst was the ancient equivalent of an industrial warning sign, and while Nwahr’s lllOOOooooooOOOlll is a little rusty, he’s fairly confident that their whole situation has gotten much dicier than he first thought. First, the little “pellets” are actually pearls of bwell suspended in a protective matrix. Bwell, it seems, has the unique property of converting regular old water molecules into an incredibly energy-dense fuel (if a little prone to spontaneous explosions), with a transformative property that propagates through any nearby water molecules like a fire through dry tinder. Second, the ancients weren’t morons—to prevent bwell from reacting with the ambient moisture in the air, it’s suspended in an incredibly stable protective matrix. That matrix isn’t perfect, however, as it starts to degrade when exposed to freezing temperatures for too long.

Nwhar’s frosted breath should as he makes this statement should hammer the point home for the PCs. “Third thing we know is that these pellets have been created recently, what with their slipperiness, and based on the number we’re seeing, I’d guess some automated bwell-maker is still operating at full steam.” The old explorer’s face looks haggard a moment before his expression changes to one of resolve. “We’re going to have to find it, shut it off, and then figure out a way to safely dispose of these pellets, and fast, because if one of them converts that glacier up top...the whole world goes kablooey.” 

Your Support = More Gazetteer Entries!

If you enjoy my work and would like to see more stat-less bizarrities, places of interest, odd creatures, and strange settlements, please support me on Patreon or Ko-fi! (Non-monetary support is always welcome, too. Spread the word of the #WeirdGazetteer far and wide!)

Also, please note—The Gazetteer of the Weird and all entries within it are licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License, so be cool.

Kinetic Impeller

Wonder

Description:

One of the more common Wonders, Kinetic Impellers are gently curved rods made of rough, red ceramic. On one end (the emitter), the device terminates in a tube with a beveled edge, while the other end (the regulator) sports threads of glassy material running through the ceramic in a pattern akin to wood grain.

Highly sensitive to temperature, these glass threads act as the control system—modifying them appropriately not only allows a Kinetic Impeller’s wielder to trigger the artifact, causing it to shoot conical projectiles (about 2.5 cm long) at high velocity from the emitter, but also to control the behavior of those projectiles once they connect with their target.

When the wider end of a projectile makes contact with it a solid target, the two will bond on a molecular level. The wielder of the Kinetic Impeller may then cause the projectile to emit an incredible amount of thrust (although no heat or exhaust gasses), making the uses of this Wonder limited only by its wielder’s imagination...and their understanding of its control mechanism, of course.

Quirks:

Warning: Do Not Aim at Face!

While every Kinetic Impeller is physically identical to any other, they differ greatly when it comes to how easily one may control the behavior of their projectiles. With a little practice, most sophonts capable of manipulating temperature can cause a Kinetic Impeller to fire projectiles that emit thrust on command, ceasing only when the wielder inputs the correct command or creates a new projectile.

However, the control threads of some specimens either damaged in a way undetectable to the naked eye or are simply different from most other Kinetic Impellers, as there have been reports of those whose projectiles only travel in spirals, or make 90-degree turns every 18 seconds (regardless of the level of thrust being emitted). Some specimens even allow for control over multiple projectiles at a time, making them exceedingly valuable.

The quirks of other Kinetic Impellers—such as those whose projectiles emit thrust before hitting their targets, or explode violently after a certain distance traveled from the wielder—make them more suitable as weapons.

Adventure Hooks:

The Jadescar Consortium and the Favor

For many years, merchants along the trade road known as the “Pearlescent Way” passed through the Tohbram Gap, carefully navigating the narrow switchback paths down one side and up the other in order to avoid a weeks-long detour around the gorge. That is, they did so until about a decade ago.

At that time, an AI awoke at the bottom of the Gap and announced itself to be the Jadescar Portering and Hauling Consortium. Appealing to the power of ancient law (as well as the army of cybernetic porters and haulers it woke up from cryosleep), Jadescar declared that all goods within its domain to be its property. Barring the few caravans willing to play Jadescar’s game and “repurchase” their goods on the other side of the gap, most merchants accepted the loss of the shortcut, except for one.

One merchant revealed that they’d recently come into ownership of a unique Kinetic Impeller not only capable of creating multiple projectiles at a time, but also incredible control over the thrust they produce. Using this Wonder, the merchant has created a prototype flying machine—one that will allow them to ferry goods directly over the Gap.

As is to be expected, the Jadescar Consortium is less than pleased with this development, and it sends the PCs a message. Deliver the merchant’s Kinetic Impeller to the AI in the Gap, and it will grant them their choice of wealth or knowledge. An ancient mind, Jadescar has accumulated both over the centuries. If the PCs refuse, the Kinetic Impeller goes missing a few days after Jadescar sends it message, and then it’s the merchant’s turn to ask for their help in retrieving it.

Equal and Opposite Explosions

An isolated road with a thick patch of vegetation on one side and a gully on the other. Perfect place to ambush the diplomatic windskimmer the PCs have been hired to protect. Armed with Kinetic Impellers (loaned to them by the diplomat they’re guarding), the PCs are on high alert when brigands drop their displacement fields and attack with Kinetic Impellers of their own. As the conical projectiles fly, a one-in-a-billion shot sees two of them perfectly strike each other face-to-face, but as they trigger, there’s a flash of light, a strangely discordant tone, and everyone gets dizzy.

An isolated road with a thick patch of vegetation on one side and a gully on the other. Perfect place to ambush the diplomatic windskimmer the PCs have been hired to assault. Armed with Kinetic Impellers (loaned to them by their brigand allies), the PCs strike when the vehicle reaches the designated spot, dropping their displacement fields and letting loose, only for the windskimmer’s guards to fire back with Kinetic Impellers of their own. As the conical projectiles fly, a one-in-a-billion shot sees two of them perfectly strike each other face-to-face, but as they trigger, there’s a flash of light, a strangely discordant tone, and everyone gets dizzy.

An isolated road with a thick patch of vegetation on one side and a gully on the other. Perfect place to...realize the PCs are stuck in a time loop. The details may be slightly different each time, but every version ends up the same way, with a “one-in-a-billion” chance happening 100% of the time. If the PCs could somehow alter the outcome, they might escape the loop, but if the only remember the previous loops just as the new one is about to begin, how do they pull that off

The Sky is Literally Falling

Every three days, the Elders of the Shrouded Groves must take their stations in the secret places shown to them by the elders who came before, raise their holy implements to the mists above, and chant the sacred words. If the ritual is performed properly, the holy implements will grow warm in their hands—like freshly baked bread—and then icy cold for a moment—like the walls of the secret places—a sign that their offering has been accepted by They-Who-Dwell-Above-the-Mist. If the ritual is not followed precisely in this way...then Doom shall descend from the Mist and lay waste to the Shrouded Groves.

Immediately following the most recent ritual, a few strange things happen shortly after one another. First, the PCs appear in a hitherto-undiscovered sacred space beneath Elder Gwandyne’s home, although they have no memory of how they arrived there. Second, one of the PCs is the spitting image of Elder Gawndyne, (albeit a few decades younger), which is strange, because Gawndyne has never had a child. Third, on seeing this PC, Gawndyne growls at them in a guttural language, smashes their holy implement to pieces, and then collapses into a fevered sleep.

While the villagers are worried about Gawndyne, the Elders’ greatest concern is the loss of the holy implement. The PCs will recognize it as a Kinetic Impeller, but will this knowledge help them forestall the imminent doom of the Shrouded Groves? Not to mention the question of what they’re doing here, or how to get home?

Your Support = More Gazetteer Entries!

If you enjoy my work and would like to see more stat-less bizarrities, places of interest, odd creatures, and strange settlements, please support me on Patreon or Ko-fi! (Non-monetary support is always welcome, too. Spread the word of the #WeirdGazetteer far and wide!)

Also, please note—The Gazetteer of the Weird and all entries within it are licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License, so be cool.

Patron Content Alert! (10 MORE Adventure Hooks)

Twice a month, I plan to release bonus content for anyone who subscribes to my Patreon. Today, subscribers get 10 new adventure hooks! For access to all of them—and more—be sure to subscribe, and in the meantime, I leave you with this teaser: their titles…

1) The Gifts of Grandfather Stone Tree

2) The Price of the Pink Flame

3) Welcome to Zhuangzi Town! Population: You.

4) Outcast Scholars + Rings of Gyges = Bad News for Everybody

5) Green Does Not Mean Go

6) The Hidden Seeker's Missing Target

7) Something Stalks in Yagnikail... (Or Does It?)

8) The Godtooth and Its Twin

9) It's All Fun and Games Until You're Accused of Mass Murder

10) Lost in Mistblossom Grove

As always, please note—The Gazetteer of the Weird and all entries within it are licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License, so be cool.

Scenepainter Wasps

Creature

Description:

That’s No Wasp...

Despite the name, the word “wasp” is an artifact—the creatures only resemble the long-extinct suborder of insects in size (about the size of a thumbnail), color (tawny gold and glossy black), and the fact that their swarms make nests of a papery material. The similarities end there, however.

In appearance, for example, scenepainter wasps resemble nothing more than a collection of jointed insectile limbs sandwiched between a pair of flattened discs of chitin (one gold with concentric black circles inside, and the same color scheme in reverse on the other side). Though wingless, it’s thought that the sparks they emit from their carapace rings are what allow them to fly, (and quite nimbly, too). Scholars speculate that the sparks manipulate gravity in a limited radius around the wasp, but research is ongoing.

Quirks:

Scenes of Deadly Beauty

Scenepainter wasps owe the first part of their name due to the way they use their nests to catch prey. When a swarm of scenepainter wasps finds a suitable location (usually an aperture no more than a few feet wide, although larger specimens have been reported), the creatures excrete a substance called xerix—almost a cross between beeswax and papier-mâché—and create a thin layer of xerix within this frame. What’s astounding, however, is the fact that when the xerix dries, a still image of the scene “behind” the fragile shell appears.

Whatever breaks the crust of the scenepainter nest will be set upon by the swarm, stung into submission, and then dragged into the nest to be consumed. Scenepainters are able to repair a broken nest with incredible speed, but the fidelity of the illusion degrades with each repair. If a long enough period arises without prey, the swarm will consume their nest and fly away to find another location to begin the process over.

Like the Goose That Laid the Golden Egg

While the near-photographic properties of raw xerix cannot be replicated, processing and treating the material makes it capable of absorbing sound and smell. In fact, there are many small villages and hamlet where trade depends almost entirely on the scenepainter wasp. Some families raise prey animals for the wasps to eat, some build the frames where the wasps build their nests, others grow chokeweed (which, when burned, produces a smoke used to pacify the wasps so xerix can be harvested safely from thee nests), and still others process and treat the material. The process of harvesting xerix may be dangerous, but the value of the refined product cannot be denied.

Adventure Hook:

The Skillful Artist

Recently, the art scene has been abuzz with the meteoric rise of Bellen Onata Bjornessen (now known only as BOB). BOB was viewed by many as a third-rate creator of desultory sculptures and uninspired paintings, but the release of their latest line of pieces has emphatically changed this position. Photorealism is in vogue, and BOB’s series of still lifes has astounded even the harshest of their former critics. Investigations into BOB’s sudden growth in artistic faculty have been fruitless, (apparently, the technique is newly discovered and quite secret), and plagiarism, though suspected, cannot be proven.

Of course, when BOB's claim that these new still lifes are the creation of no other artist is technically true, they are being a bit deceptive as to the real reason behind their "newly discovered technique.” The pieces are the result of recent inheritance—what BOB thought was a strange old painting purchased by a well-traveled (and recently deceased) elderly relative actually turned out to be a poorly labeled scenepainter nest. When the wasps inside the frame of the “painting” awoke, utterly random chance saved the artist from a gruesome fate. It seems that the precise mixture of volatile organic compounds off-gassed by the paints in BOB’s studio (not to mention BOB’s penchant for eating particularly odiferous fried onion sandwiches) was a match for the wasps’ pheromone for “favored ally.” Ever since then, the scenepainters have been gentle as kittens...to BOB, anyway.

As it turns out, much of the richness of scenepainter wasp pigment is derived from their prey, and after depopulating the local area of colorful songbirds, BOB was hard-pressed for a solution. At least, until an overly-nosy rival broke into BOB’s studio one evening and solved the issue for them. The intruder fell prey to the wasps, and initially, BOB was concerned. But then inspiration struck when they saw that people who’ve inhaled paint fumes for most of their lives make for an excellent source of color. Even more conveniently, every rival BOB feeds to the wasps is one fewer they have to share the limelight with...

A Heist in the Harmonious Sonarchy

For most citizens of the Harmonious Sonarchy, possession of refined xerix is punishable by up to five minutes’ immersion in the Wailwall. The official reasoning behind the severity of this sentence is that possession of xerix by Sonarchy citizens “threatens to disrupt the glorious and unified soul of the Sonarchy,” a serious crime. The actual reason is that the sound-deadening properties of xerix would serve as a kind of ablative sonic shield for the more...disharmonious elements of society. A population that no longer feared the Sonarchy’s tools of suppression would have no reason to fear their wielders, and revolution would be quick in coming.

Outsiders, on the other hand, are permitted to bring in small amounts of the forbidden substance for personal use—although total quantities must be carefully tabulated on entering and exiting the Sonarchy to help prevent smuggling. The only exception to this rule: Jadder’Gasks. This is due partially because it’s not possible to inspect the interior of a stink merchant’s living conveyance without getting coated in an odor only a Gask could love, and also because the diminutive creatures have no concept of sound—they use xerix merely for its odor-absorbing properties.

Add to this fact the existence of a black market where even the smallest amounts of xerix command astronomic prices, and smuggling xerix into the Harmonious Sonarchy is quite the lucrative proposition. Therefore, the next time the PCs are desperate and in need of a considerable amount of money, they learn all of the above from an acquaintance of theirs: Softly-Falls-the-Rain, a forger of biological materials whose reputation for honesty is...better than most in the profession.

Softly-Falls-the-Rain offers to cut the PCs in on a profitable smuggling deal if they’ll act as the forger’s mules. So long as they’re willing to have their brains implanted in some simulacrums designed to look (and more importantly, smell) like Gasks (not to mention ride inside a Jadder for the few weeks it’ll take to get to the Harmonious Sonarchy), Softly-Falls-the-Rain can make them all rich. All the PCs will need to do is transport three dozen unmarked cakes of high-quality xerix to the forger’s contact in the black market, make the deal, and come back with the money. Once they hand over the money, Softly-Falls-the-Rain puts their brains back in their bodies, the PCs earn a nice chunk of the profits, and everybody walks away happy. What could go wrong?

If you enjoy my work and would like to see more stat-less bizarrities, places of interest, odd creatures, and strange settlements, please support me on Patreon or Ko-fi! (Non-monetary support is always welcome, too. Spread the word of the #WeirdGazetteer far and wide!)

Also, please note—The Gazetteer of the Weird and all entries within it are licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License, so be cool.


Traitors Gasp

Place of Interest

Description:

Hidden Within Pools of Fog

If not for the huts of the socketeers that huddle in clumps on the rolling hills of this area, one might never know that this bleak landscape sits atop the ancient facility known as Traitors Gasp. Strange groundcover clings to the hills like a scab on a wound, alternating between slimy brown moss and sponge-like growths from which peek tall blades of neon-blue grass, with edges sharp as glass. In between the hills are hollows where dense fog settles in pools, and it is these shrouded pools that hold the way into Traitors Gasp.

“Designed” Does not Mean “Built for Humans”

Those who descend into the vapor find themselves in a twisted jumble of hexagonal corridors and chambers built like inverted step pyramids. Clearly not a space designed for humanoid occupation, the atmosphere of Traitors Gasp is not only dense, opaque as smoke, and mildly corrosive, but the “floors” of the corridors are more of a squat V-shape, while blunt hooks descend from the inverted ^ of the ceiling. But it’s what lies within the chambers of Traitors Gasp that makes this difficult environment not only possible to explore, but worth exploring in the first place: the sockets.

Ports Out of Penury

Few socketeers take to the trade for the thrill of it, but rather are forced there by desperation. The sockets that line the chambers of Traitors Grasp can be tapped for their contents. Careful trial and error—as well as knowledge paid for in blood and pain—has given socketeers a decent working knowledge of the meaning of the jagged hieroglyphs etched into the metal rings around the sockets. Shapes of this type relate to water, while those of that type refer to temperature, (or pressure, or gas, etc.)

  • A lesson socketeers learn quickly—or not at all—is that the symbols for “breathable air” and “highly acidic vapor” are remarkably similar...

On occasion, however, sockets turn out to be  motherlodes , with socketeers discovering everything from energy-dense fuels to potent intoxicants, even panaceas for everything from bumps and bruises to senescence and death. It is these intermittent jackpots that bring the desperate and the destitute to the poison-shrouded corridors of Traitors Gasp.

Quirks:

What’s in a Name?

No one’s quite sure about the origin of the name “Traitors Gasp,” whether it’s possessive (and if so, whether it refers to the gasp of a specific traitor, or a group of them), or if the name is simply a statement about the breathing habits of traitors. No one knows for sure, but most socketeers believe the name holds the secret to the origin of gaspers, that the diaphanous monsters that stalk the corridors of this ancient facility are created when a betrayer breathes their last breath in the vile miasma that fills Traitors Gasp, which then metamorphoses into the horrors faced by future socketeers.

The near-pervasiveness of this belief is what gives the three laws of the Socketeer’s Code their strength.

The Socketeer’s Code

In order to prevent the creation of new gaspers, all socketeers agree to abide by a strict code of ethics or face the harsh judgment of their peers.

The first law of the Code is, “Leave no rothver behind.” This law refers to the implements socketeers use to tap the sockets of Traitors Gasp—devices created and named after their inventor, the famed socketeer altoKikoo Rothver. Unfortunately, since Rothver’s disappearance decades ago, none have been able to recreate their work, which means the loss of a single rothver is a permanent one. (And as such, they are highly prized by their wielders.)

  • The spirit of the first law encourages socketeers to aid each other while in Traitors Gasp, but the mercenarily inclined among them only follow the letter of the law—no socketeer is obligated to save another, they point out, merely their tools.

The second law of the Code is, “There is no justice underground.” Barring the occasional lucky discovery, the life of socketeers is often dangerous, claustrophobic, laborious, and short, and on its face, this law serves as a reminder of that fact. A stupid mistake or unforeseen accident can kill a veteran as easily as a novice. Every trip into Traitors Gasp could be your last. But this law also serves as a reminder, a lesson drilled into every socketeer that all disputes between them—no matter how dire—must be settled only when both parties are above ground. A fight in the corridors or chambers is liable to spawn another gasper, and there are more than enough of those already.

The third law of the Code is, “Corrupt a socket, corrupt the trust.” This law refers to the practice of subtly changing the etchings around a socket to suggest that it emits something other than it does. Some socketeers do so to protect their claim (as no socket yet discovered has contained an unlimited amount of its bounty), while others deliberately alter dangerous sockets to look harmless, or vice versa. Difficult to prove unless explicitly witnessed and recorded by another, altering sockets to serve as booby traps weakens the trust which underpins the first and second laws of the Code.

Ghosts of Miasma

From its poisonous environment to its maze-like structure, Traitors Gasp holds many dangers, but none pose a greater threat to socketeers than gaspers. When in their passive state, gaspers resemble headless jellyfish lit from within by a pale grey illumination, mere bundles of wispy tendrils that silently float throughout the facility. In this state, gaspers pose no danger to the average socketeer—so long as they remain calm and ensure the physical integrity of their suit, a socketeer could walk right through a gasper and be fine. 

  • NOTE: This integrity check is necessary because of how gaspers react to non-miasma gases—an instant transition to their hunting state.

When gaspers enter a chamber, they either pause for a moment before passively continuing along, or enter a more active state. An active gasper can be spotted by a change in illumination (from a steady pale grey to slowly pulsing sickly green and bruised purple) as well as a low vocalization, as of someone’s labored breathing. Active gaspers will use their tendrils to investigate the sockets of a chamber, seemingly at random, until they either calm down and revert back to passivity, or elevate to their hunting state.

A hunting gasper can be identified through the increased volume of its “gasping,” as well as the intensity and frequency of its pulsing lights. In this state, gaspers move more quickly and seem to gain mass and density—the strike of a hunting gasper’s tendril is powerful enough to break bones and shatter suit seals. In this state, the only way to handle a gasper is to tap a socket of vacuum and hope for the best. (Unfortunately, this is the only time such strategy is possible—gaspers not in hunting state are not “solid” enough to be affected by a vacuum.) Under ideal circumstances, sucking the gasper through the rothver and into the port should give the socketeer enough time to safely leave the area. If not...death by gasper is not a pleasant way to go.

Adventure Hooks:

An Awfully Convenient Advantage...

Socketeers depend on their protective suits to survive in Traitors Gasp, not only so that they may breathe, but also to navigate the facility at all. So long as they visionplate of a suit is kept charged, the curved metal panels allow one to see under any condition, including the opaque miasma that fills the corridors beneath the hills. However, every visionplate in the area lost power after a recent meteor shower, and now none of them will hold a charge any longer than a few minutes.

The only socketeer still able to work is Ever-Up-and-Up, a sophont made of equal parts sapient fungus and cybernetic limbs. Ever-Up-and-Up isn’t overly bothered by the lack of a visionplate (as they primarily use radar to navigate anyway). However, this natural advantage has spawned suspicion that Ever-Up-and-Up is the reason behind the visionplate failure in the first place. As discontent grows and tensions rise, a veteran socketeer asks the PCs to help solve the issue before things get out of hand.

The Mystery of the Missing Socketeers

For the last few weeks, no gasper has been observed elevating to hunting state, which would normally be a cause for celebration—socketeers are not given to looking a gift tellep in the spout. But in the days after this change in behavior was spotted, socketeers have started to go missing during the night. When the PCs are asked to investigate by an old friend and socketeer, they discover that every person to have disappeared tapped into a specific socket for water while last in Traitors Gasp, and a quick poll among the other socketeers as to who else did so only turns up one name: the PCs’ friend. 

If you enjoy my work and would like to see more stat-less bizarrities, places of interest, odd creatures, and strange settlements, please support me on Patreon or Ko-fi! (Non-monetary support is always welcome, too. Spread the word of the #WeirdGazetteer far and wide!)

Also, please note—The Gazetteer of the Weird and all entries within it are licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License, so be cool.

The Filigree Virus

Phenomenon

Description:

An affliction that only seems to affect sophonts of significant metallic construction, the filigree virus is nonetheless a serious condition that should be curtailed as quickly as possible (if for no other reason than to prevent mutations that may allow it to cross the synthetic/organic barrier).

The most common method by which the infection spreads is through metallic Wonders covered in oddly ornate filigree etchings, as well as filigree wire of gold, blue tungsten, or palladium. (it should be noted, however, that this list is not exclusive—there have been reports of filigree composed of metals as common as steel or copper, and as esoteric as mirrorichalcum and hihi'irokane.)

This filigree is no mere ostentation, however, but a creeping doom that infests metallic sophonts, alternately excising fractal sections from their outermost layers and applying filigree wire (typically the same types as were found on the initial transmission vector) from an unknown source. 

If allowed to proceed unchecked, the virus will eventually infect every metallic part of the sophont, eventually converting them into a fragile (if valuable) mesh liable to collapse at the slightest touch.

Quirks: 

Potential Virus Origins

Scholars (both organic and digital) are undecided as to the definitive source of the filigree virus. Information recovered from structures beneath the fog-river of the Reach suggest it was originally created as a weapon in a war against sapient machines bent on global domination, while mindspikes from the Market of the Dead indicate its origins as an experimental form of transformational art grown beyond its programming.

No matter its beginnings, all who study it agree that the virus is unable to begin its infection without a deliberate interaction between the initial infested Wonder and a sapient being of sufficient metallic physicality. Numerous proposals for further study have been put forth by scholarly organizations to learn more about the virus (as well as to continue research into a possible cure), but as the initial vector Wonder crumbles almost immediately after passing on the virus, efforts so far have been fruitless.

How are Outbreaks Handled?

How seriously the filigree virus is taken is largely dependent on the local attitude towards non-organic sophonts. Areas with large populations of robotic or cybernetic inhabitants, such as the City of Three Selves, rightfully treat the issue as seriously as plague or other major crisis. 

Opinions differ in areas where Wonders and sapient machines are viewed less benevolently, however. Some consider the filigree virus a nuisance only in that it can upset trade (for obvious reasons, Gervans and the telepresence drones of the Eukeynes Consolidation are wary of areas suffering from filigree virus outbreaks). Those of a more organic-supremacist view (such as the infamous “Nightragers”) may even welcome such infections, seeking to “cast down over-proud machines” and “restore the rightful place” of unaugmented sophonts at the top of the power structure. 

Luckily, this latter view is but a vocal minority in most places, and open affiliation with the Nightrager movement is grounds for exile in most civilized lands.

Adventure Hooks:

Doctor, or Deceiver?

The PCs get hired to secretly transport a secure vial of the virus to a researcher who’s trying to work on a cure. They need to be careful, though, because there are reports that Nightragers (organic supremacists) that may try to “relieve” them of their cargo and use it to harm cybernetic sophonts. On their journey, the PCs are found out by a pair of mercenaries bearing organic supremacist marks, but before the fighting can begin, they explain that their client has lied to them.

 According to the mercenaries, their client is doing research on the filigree virus—that much of the story is true—but the client has the means to change its transmission vector so that it no longer requires physical contact and can spread through data uplinks alone. The client plans to sell the upgraded virus to a local Nightrager cell, and it’s likely they’ll unleash it at the upcoming the Linking of Minds festival.

Question is, who’s telling the truth: the client or the mercenaries?

Knowledge Demands Sacrifice

Pellaway Un’gota, a famed explorer and researcher par excellence, has been stricken with the filigree virus while exploring a new chamber in the Cube of Doors, and time is running out—Un’Gota’s seven limbs and primary life support systems are all mechanical. The effects of the virus will likely be fatal if not treated soon, but Un’gota refuses to leave the newly discovered chamber, or more specifically, the skeletal frame of delicate black porcelain shot through with delicate threads of copper, gold, and blue tungsten floating at the center of the chamber. 

When the PCs arrive to help, they learn that Un’Gota came down with the virus after touching the frame, and what’s more, the journal found on the researcher’s person suggests this was on purpose. The last few pages of the journal are filled with scribbles in Un’gota’s handwriting, phrases like “Only the Adorned may travel along the Tripartite Way” and “virus... key... safe?... irrelevant... must bring them back.”

There’s almost always a method to Un’gota’s madness (there’s a reason few explorers are as old or as famous), and it is odd that the frame is still standing (normally the initial vector collapses after spreading the virus), but the question remains: is the infected frame actually more than it appears, or has the virus merely addled Un’gota’s wits?

Fragility, Beauty, and Time

Recently, outbreaks of the filigree virus have been much more common than usual, and no one can seem to figure out why. No matter the reason, the Glorious Preserver Society has announced that its members will open their entropic arresters to anyone afflicted with the virus. Normally used for incredibly fragile relics, the arresters are able to greatly slow entropy within a specific area, essentially freezing its contents in time. While these devices won’t cure the virus, they will prevent its progression, buying the infected time until a cure can be discovered.

The PCs enter the picture when someone contacts them about the disappearance of a mutual friend. Apparently, before said acquaintance went missing, they were trying to prove a rumor that the reason so many outbreaks of the virus were happening was the fault of the Society itself, and that the only reason the Glorious Preservers were giving “public access” to their arrestors was to satisfy a grotesque urge to display the infected sophonts like sculptures. 

As one might expect, the Society’s board (all wealthy and powerful individuals) denies these allegations in their entirety, but when the PCs’ “missing” friend winds up in an arrestor, half-covered in creeping strands of filigree, the story sounds a bit more plausible...

If you enjoy my work and would like to see more stat-less bizarrities, places of interest, odd creatures, and strange settlements, please support me on Patreon or Ko-fi! (Non-monetary support is always welcome, too. Spread the word of the #WeirdGazetteer far and wide!)

Also, please note—The Gazetteer of the Weird and all entries within it are licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License, so be cool.

Eternal Armor

Wonder

Description:

Ancient protective suits from the World Before, a set of Eternal Armor will protect its wearer from searing heat, freezing cold, the crushing depths of the sea, poisonous vapors, and nearly every other form of harm they may encounter. However, as powerful as Eternal Armor may be, some rightfully call it a kind of prison. 

Enclosed entirely within the adamant plates, the wearer never again shall feel the cool breeze on their skin, nor taste the flesh of ripened fruit, nor smell the scent of wet soil after rain. Eternal Armor’s protection is all-encompassing. Some find the bargain acceptable, however, and all those who find these Wonders go down in history as saviors, or monsters, or someone who enabled them to walk among us.

Besides their shield, certain sets are said to offer their wearers other abilities as well. Legends speak of armored figures flying sprightly as a hummingbird, or manifesting great irradiated rods from the sky, or seeing through walls. The truth of these tales is unknown, but all agree that the armor calls out to those capable of wearing it. Whether this is a lure for the unwary or a clarion call to the worthy, who can say?

Quirks:

Fact vs Fiction

Many of the stories about Eternal Armor are true, if somewhat distorted over time and through retellings. It can protect the wearer from nearly any kind of physical danger—from blunt force trauma to energetic radiation and even more exotic source of harm—and most sets do grant their wearers incredible abilities. However, there is more to Eternal Armor than meets the eye.

Gestalt Hivemind

Every suit of Eternal Armor holds within it a gestalt hivemind composed of its previous wearers. In some sets, this gestalt functions as a sort of advisor, offering advice but never taking direct control. Others reverse the situation instantly, taking over and piloting their would-be masters like puppets. In every case, however, the hivemind slowly absorbs the wearer’s consciousness into its own, at which point, the old body is ejected to expire, and a new body is required.

A Pilot is Needed

Study of broken sets (for no active one will allow an examination of its inner workings, as a number of dead Timekeepers could attest to...if they weren’t dead) offers strong evidence to suggest that while Eternal Armor can operate independently of its wearer’s will, it must have a wearer to activate most of its functions. 

Thus, even the most terrifying sets cannot function as automatons, but many a scholar worries that such a day may come eventually, some Wonder unearthed or Place of Interest explored that allows such a situation to occur, and on that day, we can only hope the sets of Eternal Armor that care for us will come to our aid...

Adventure Hooks:

The Wise Ruler

The Shining Seed Territories are ruled by the Shining Seed itself, a set of Eternal Armor that always glistens like sunlight through morning dew and is capable of emitting beams of light that can cut through mountains. And yet, the greatest gift the Shining Seed offers the Territories is its wisdom, carefully curated over generations. Each time the mortal part of it dies, a Great Examination is declared throughout the land, with those who enter it tested on their knowledge of whatever subject the Shining Seed declares. 

Topics often include ethics, diplomacy, and other standard items of politics, but word has it that the next Great Examination shall be on undersea construction. As the Territories are almost a hundred miles from the nearest coast, some worry the hivemind of the Shining Seed has suffered a breakdown of some kind and seek adventurers to help their ruler. (Of course, some loyal citizens would be offended at the suggestion that the Shining Seed could possibly be in error, and so may be less than friendly to outsiders seeking to confirm such heresy...)

The Forever Tyrant

The Horrorplain of Kal-to-mehr owes the first part of its name to the atrocities committed there over the centuries, and the second part of its name to the armored figure that has committed them. Kal-to-mehr claims dominion of everything it can see from the chamber atop its twisted tower, and with the ability to cast its vision farther than a boundloper can gallop in a day, its demense is quite expansive.

As the righteous are too fearful of Kal-to-mehr to enter its lands, and the locals (villagers that eke out a hardscrabble existence thanks to bitter knotgrass and tamed scriggles) are too frightened to leave, bandits, murderers, and criminals of all kinds take advantage of this shield from righteousness, gathering in broken keeps scattered throughout the Horrorplain and gathering “taxes” in its name. And so a group of adventurers may find themselves facing a tough decision while traveling through the Horrorplain—truly, driving off a band of Kal-to-mehr’s  “bailiffs” plundering a small homestead would be the just thing to do, but is any deed worth doing if it may draw the attention of the Master of the Horrorplain?

The Glimmering Knight of the Mirrored Forest

Almost everyone who lives in or near the Mirrored Forest has a story to tell about Itinerant, the glimmering knight of the woods. Numerous accounts claim Itinerant constantly emits a cloud of vapor that confuses the senses (organic and digital alike), and there are those who say the knight can travel through any kind of reflection, not merely those created by the chrome-plated growths of the forest. 

Disagreements as to one’s feelings about Itinerant’s vigilante kidnappings seem to depend on one’s social class—the elite dub the glimmering knight no more than a bandit with delusions of grandeur, while the common people appreciate that wealth and connections no longer serve as bulwarks against richly deserved justice.

Adventurers themselves might encounter Itinerant while traveling through the Mirrored Forest, a humanoid figure constantly shrouded in swirling mist. Of course, they might only see tricks of the light reflected in the fog that often drifts through the chrome-plated “trees.” Either way, adventurers with inclinations towards the criminal would be advised to keep their activities on the level when Itinerant’s about...

If you enjoy my work and would like to see more stat-less bizarrities, places of interest, odd creatures, and strange settlements, please support me on Patreon or Ko-fi! (Non-monetary support is always welcome, too. Spread the word of the #WeirdGazetteer far and wide!) 

Also, please note—The Gazetteer of the Weird and all entries within it are licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License, so be cool.

Patron Content Alert: A Peek Behind the Scenes

Twice a month, I plan to release bonus content for those who subscribe to my Patreon at $3 a month or more. Today, patrons can check out all the Behind the Scenes articles for every entry in the Gazetteer (since last month, that is). Subscribe today for access to those and more, and in the meantime, I leave you with a reminder of what I created recently…

As always, please note—The Gazetteer of the Weird and all entries within it are licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License, so be cool.

Neeth

Creature

Description

Neethed (the plural form of the singular “neeth,” also called “threadsnakes” or “threadworms”) are synthetic, tubular creatures entirely composed of incredibly strong threads. While juvenile specimens may only measure a yard long and a thickness of two fingers, they begin to grow after a few months, with most mature specimens measuring three to four times their juvenile size. 

In fact, although never verified, there are sources to claim that the low berm that encircles the Guldavi Waste is actually a long-dormant neeth, one that’s lain quiescent for so long that the sandy soil has piled atop it to make it resemble a natural feature of the land. If true, the Great Guldavi Neeth would dwarf all known examples of its breed (and should it ever rise from its slumber, woe betide the nomads of the waste...)

Quirks

Alive, or Not?

While classified as “creatures” by this Gazetteer, there is a healthy debate amongst scholars as to the veracity of the claim that a neeth is “alive.” Thorough investigation and dissections have made it clear that while neethed do seem to behave similarly to an organic creature, in that they “drink” from dry streams, engulf dry sticks and stones (which pass through them unchanged), and so forth, they have no organs—sensory or otherwise. Despite this lack, neethed are still capable of navigating their environments and reacting to stimuli without issue.

Swarming Time

Neethed seem to prefer warm and dry environments, growing sluggish and irritable when in the cold and damp. While normally solitary, they do swarm periodically, an event that occurs more frequently during long periods of drought.

During swarming time, the neethed form enormous braided gestalts for long stretches of time, sometimes up to a tenday or more. Eventually, the swarm breaks up into a larger number of smaller neethed, which will then go their separate ways. Study suggestions that this is neethed reproduction, although more precise observation is made difficult by heightened aggression during the period immediately following the breakup of the gestalt, and caution is advised when attempting to interact during this time.

However, it’s important to note that not all neethed created (if "created” is the correct word to use in this context) quicken after a spawning event. Those who live near neethed spawning grounds will then gather and split apart the “dead” neethed into their component threads. These can then be woven to make a fabric called “neethcloth,” which is not only incredibly strong and lightweight but also stain-resistant as well.

Colorful Blankets, Rugs, and More

While normally a dull, mottled gray and brown in hue, another oddity of neethed is the fact that their coloration can change dramatically when exposed to certain pitches, tones, and frequencies. Those who harvest neethcloth often take this into account, using instruments or Wonders to change the color of the neethed as they spawn. 

The process is not an exact one—there’s no guarantee that the neethed that do not quicken will possess the precise colors the harvesters wish—but as neethcloth repels dye as well as it does all other forms of contaminant, music is the only way to create this type of fabric in colors other than their natural ones.

Adventure Hooks

  • An entrepreneurial neethcloth dealer in town has built a climate-controlled enclosure for the dozen recently purchased mature neethed. The floor of the small warehouse is piled in hummocks of sandy soil, and the environment mimics the creatures’ natural one through the use of a pair of Wonders, ones shaped like cat-headed statues that constantly emit a warm breeze from their mouths and draw in moisture through their many hands. However, every few nights for the past tenday, a neeth has vanished without a trace. Despite investing in new locks and posting guards, the neethed keep disappearing. As such, the merchant is offering a big reward to anyone who can help solve this problem. Is there a neeth thief in town? Are the Wonders somehow to blame? Or are the neethed simply figuring out how to escape the warehouse themselves?

  • Due to the incredible durability of their component threads, neethed normally ignore most living things (people included), with the sole exception of inappropriate climate and spawning season. And yet, a  caravan traveling across the Guldavi Waste claims that no matter where they run, a swarm of neethed follows close behind. And what’s worse, the threadsnakes have already taken a few of their number. Is the caravan telling the truth? If so, why are the neethed so uncharacteristically aggressive? If not, what does the caravan stand to gain by spinning such an outrageous fable?

If you enjoy my work and would like to see more stat-less bizarrities, places of interest, odd creatures, and strange settlements, please support me on Patreon or Ko-fi! (Non-monetary support is always welcome, too. Spread the word of the #WeirdGazetteer far and wide!) 

Also, please note—The Gazetteer of the Weird and all entries within it are licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License, so be cool.

Gultan's Reef

Place of Interest

Description

The Reefwall is named after the legendary (and potentially apocryphal) explorer named Gultan. According to the most commonly told stories, Gultan found the Reefwall when their traveling companion suddenly fell into two perfectly vertical pieces, sliced down the middle by some unseen force, a force that turned out to be the eponymous Reefwall. 

A two-dimensional wall that stretched ten feet high and over a hundred rods long, the Reefwall appears to be made of pale gray stone studded with numerous apertures along its length. Some are as wide as a hand while others are so large that one could walk through without crouching. A semi-transparent, rose-colored liquid covers the apertures, which flows up into a series of intricately carved channels that ring the apertures, pulling the roseate substance up towards the top of the wall, where it’s converted it into a sheet of pink mist that rises into the sky.

But while the exterior of Gultan’s Reefwall is odd (and its endpoints are dangerous), it’s what lies within it that draws explorers, scholars, merchants, and more to this Place of Interest: the eponymous Gultan’s Reef.

Quirks
A Reef of Invisible Water

The Reef gets its name from what look like coral reefs found within it, colorful forms that seem almost hybrids of rocks and plants, all rough exteriors, numerous branches, and leaf-like blades that slowly sway in unseen currents. The creatures that inhabit the Reef are just as varied (and just as strange) as those found within terrestrial seas and skies, although it can be difficult to differentiate between those that “fly” and those that “swim,” and perhaps such a strict line need not be drawn between the two at all. Why?

Because the “water” within the Reef...isn’t. Those who enter most apertures in the Reefwall find themselves swimming through what feels like water, but the viscosity of the “water” inside the Reef varies greatly, ranging from “molasses” to “water” to “foam” to “air” to “vacuum,” and there are occasions and locations where things change from one end of the scale to the other without warning. 

Thus, for the purpose of safety, the Guild of Gultan’s Guides (a troupe of explorers who offer their services to those interested in safely exploring the Reef), prevent free travel through just any aperture. Some are forbidden to the casual explorer for fear that they may underestimate the dangers of the seductive fire fountains or incorrectly calculate the timing needed to navigate the Foamstone Labyrinth. Others are barred to all, deemed too dangerous for even hardened veterans to enter, with what lies beyond those portals better left undisturbed (and even unthought of, for fear of the consequences...)

Forcefield “Bubbles”

Though the Reef may hold dangers within it (not to mention the deadly, two-dimensional edges it sports on either terminus), there are a handful of safety measures that seem built—or grown—into it, and chief among them are the forcefield bubbles.

Those who enter the apertures in the Reefwall and who pay close attention during the process will notice themselves sheathed in a whisper-thin membrane of the same roseate liquid that covers the holes themselves. This membrane allows nonindigenous beings to enter Gultan’s Reef with a moderate supply of air (depending on one’s respiratory needs, of course) as well as the ability to see while in the Reef—as far as can be discerned, no natural light sources have ever been found there.

These sheaths work in reverse as well, enclosing whatever items or objects explorers bring back from the Reef in a similar (if somewhat thicker and slightly stickier) version of that same pink membrane. If not returned to the Reef in a few days time, objects so enclosed will melt into a kind of dark green slurry before they and the forcefield “shell” dissipate completely. 

Merchants Along the Wall

Luckily, for all those interested in plumbing the depths of the Reef in search of treasure (both natural and artificial), there is a way to remove objects from their forcefield bubbles...for a price. The exact process involved is a highly guarded secret (only the Gallowglass and Nrw’Mrw’Prw merchant families possess it), but any who visit the Reef and wish to bring home a souvenir simply pay the fee to either clan and receive their prize.

Other goods and services for hire along the Reefwall include food, beverage, and intoxicants; guides to the most picturesque areas of the Reef; guides to some of the more dangerous places of the Reef; collectors interested in purchasing rare flora and fauna; purveyors of neural maps and navigational aids; and more.

In addition, it’s traditional for those exploring the Reef on for the first time to pay homage to Gultan’s lost companion by paying for a special token to hang on one of the end posts constructed to keep others for suffering the same fate. Purchase of the token goes to funding the Guild of Gultan’s Guides, as well as maintaining the safety end posts themselves, and it’s said that hanging the token (or paying someone to have it hung for you) increases your chances of a safe return from the Reef. 

NOTE: The tradition pertains to one’s first foray into the Reef. Those who claim it’s a requirement each time one enters are thieves and charlatans, and should b reported to the Guild of Guides immediately.

Adventure Hooks:

  • A pair of spouse smiths have recently started offering arms and armor incorporating pieces of the roseate forcefield that encases objects brought back from the Reef. According to rumor, the pair discovered a way to preserve the forcefield “shells” rather than the objects insides them, and then are able to work the wondrous material into useful equipment. No one’s quite sure how they manage the feat, but both the Gallowglass and the Nrw’Mrw’Prw are willing to pay a significant amount to anyone who can discern their secret.

  • The adventurers break up a fight between an angry explorer and a sputtering guide. According to the explorer, the mindmap purchased from the guide was inaccurate. The guide maintains their wares are only of the utmost quality. Is the guide a charlatan, or has the interior of Gultan’s Reef really changed?

  • Unbeknownst to any along the Reefwall, Kaz-Maz the Gregarious (a local scholar and eccentric) has successfully cultured a piece of coral from the Reef in their laboratory’s largest aquarium, and it has started to produce the invisible “water” of the Reef. Unfortunately, Kaz-Maz has gone missing, and with no forcefield bubble to contain it, the level of “water” is rising. What’s worse, Kaz-Maz’s laboratory is hidden, dug into a nearby hillside, so the first that any might be aware of the problem is when a torrent of invisible liquid rushes down the hill and toward the Reefwall...

  • A rumor has spread to all nearby towns that someone discovered a Wonder in the Reef that purports to show the way to Gultan’s treasure horde, a vast collection of wealth and powerful Wonders that Gultan stashed in a hidden section of the Reef where no one would be able to find it without the Wonder. As a result, countless treasure-hunters have descended upon the Reefwall, and the locals are making money hand over fist. But is there any truth to the rumor? And if so, where is the Wonder that will show the way to the horde? 

If you enjoy my work and would like to see more stat-less bizarrities, places of interest, odd creatures, and strange settlements, please support me on Patreon or Ko-fi! (Non-monetary support is always welcome, too. Spread the word of the #WeirdGazetteer far and wide!)

Also, please note—The Gazetteer of the Weird and all entries within it are licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License, so be cool.

Order of the Immovable Anchor

Organization

Description:

While commonly thought of as the militant arm of the more scholarly Keepers of the Eternal Timepiece, the Order of the Immovable Anchor is technically a separate sodality. The two groups do work closely together, however, with the Timekeepers often providing archival, research, and analysis services to the latter, while the Anchorites help to subdue, fortify, and guard relics and ruins of interest to the former.

At its core, the primary purpose of the Order is to protect the fabric of reality from unraveling, whether due to the creation of time paradoxes, careless use of Wonders, bumbling explorers in Places of Interest better left untouched, the effects of creatures like angular hounds and frictive emancipators, or other sources.

While the missions of both associations focus on the powers of ancient relics and locations, they differ in outlook. Keepers of the Eternal Timepiece wish to study and experiment with these bizarrities not only to learn better how to harness their power, but also to improve sophonity’s understanding of the universe at large. The Order of the Immovable Anchor, however, knows far too well that Worldsnarls (i.e. anything that would threaten to fray or unravel the fabric of reality) are much easier problems to create than to solve, and that the end to all things might be caused merely by an over-eager Timekeeper with clumsy fingers.

Emblem:

A black ship’s anchor centered on a fractured circle that’s half green and half blue. The anchor is outlined in gold, and the gold seems to “seep” from this outline to slowly fill in the cracks in the emblem.

Motto:

“Reality Will Unravel Before We Do”

Prominent Figures:

Worldwarden

  • The title held by the Order of the Immovable Anchor’s founder, Argden Kel-Min-Ha, as well as each leader to have succeeded hir.

  • The current Worldwarden is Bellamie Vorn, a taciturn figure renowned for their quick wit, sharp tongue, and the intricately filigreed iridium walking chair in which they ride like a robed spider. (Rumor has it that Worldwarden Vorn lost the use of their biological legs in the same ruin where the walking chair was discovered and managed to physically wrestle the device into accepting them as its master.)

Waymaker

  • The Waymaker is in charge of the Order’s chief armory, ensuring that all itinerant Anchorites have the means to protect themselves and others as they patrol in search of potential threats to reality.

  • The current Waymaker is Tahan Qulla. Despite her trembling hands, stooped frame, and snow-white hair, Waymaker Qulla’s aged appearance belies her near-supernatural faculties with every weapon in the Order’s armory. It is said that the Waymaker once forestalled a rampaging taltherizin with nothing more than a sternly arched eyebrow—a tale believed by any Anchorite caught failing to care for their weapon as thoroughly as they should and forced to face her wrath.

Gatesealer

  • The Gatesealer is in charge of securing the Order’s network of Worldsnarl vaults. Those that can be safely moved and secured are brought to Anchor’s Rest, chief fortress of the Order. Those that are too difficult to transport (whether they’re too large, or heavy, or delicate, etc.) are instead guarded where they’re located by Anchorite chapters, and vaults are often constructed around them. The Gatesealer is responsible for maintaining the viability of these chapterhouses and their vaults.

  • The current Gatesealer’s persona is now called [Brittle Water/Third/Kebblite/Semi-localized], though a version of that Sebbinix has held the position of Gatesealer since the Battle of Hegden Pass (where it experienced its first mind-death). Thanks to its ability to distribute aspects of its sensorium and consciousness, every Anchorite chapterhouse is under the watchful “eye” of Brittle Water, and those large enough to house Sebbinix mindfragments can rely on the Gatesealer’s wisdom as well.

Other Information:

Anchorites vs Timekeepers

Over the years, disagreements between the Timekeepers and the Anchorites on the subject of how to handle powerful Wonders and Places of Interest have ebbed and flowed in intensity, only reaching a peak at the Battle of Hegden’s Pass. There, two stars of an Obsidian Egg were activated (see the entry on ‘Battleside’ to learn more about the effects of an eight-star Egg).

When the aftermath was contained and the casualties given what mercies they could, both sides agreed that conflict between them would only endanger the world. The death of a Timekeeper, after all, represents the destruction of knowledge that could prove vital to the safety of the world, while the death of an Anchorite meant the absence of a defender of the Fabric against whatever Worldsnarl might threaten reality next.

And so the organizations agreed to the Hegden’s Pass Accords, a set of guidelines and treaties that would bring them closer together, resulting in an alliance so entangled, most are surprised to learn the two define themselves as discrete groups.

Foundation of the Chapter of the Lost

Not all within the Order were pleased with the Hegden’s Pass Accords, however. The cynics—or realists, as they’d called themselves—in the Order understood the seductive hold that Wonders can pose not only to those with more brains than sense (like the Timekeepers), but to the very weft and warp of the fabric of reality itself.

And so the Assistant Worldwarden at the time secretly laid the foundation for what would become the Chapter of the Lost—an organization within an organization prepared to do whatever it took to keep dangerous Wonders and places of interest not only secure from dangers within and without, but to ensure that these potential Snarls go forgotten, unnoticed, and unfound.

The secret chapter gets its name from the honor bestowed upon members of the Order who not only fall in the line of duty, but do so in a way that their remains are unidentifiable, or no longer perceivable in this universe. To become a member, an individual Anchorite must prove themselves utterly committed to the cause of protecting the Fabric, no matter the cost; have no spouse or children; and be willing to undergo extensive physical changes not only to hide their identities, but also make them better able to survive their mission. Those who join the Chapter of the Lost understand that doing so will mean an end to their old lives. Almost everyone they’ve ever known will think of them as dead.

Adventure Hooks:

  • The hot springs in the Malachite Gardens are famed throughout the empire for their restorative and medicinal properties. However, even the utmost efforts of the Garden’s healer-florists are unable to calm the madness of a wandering (and somewhat violent) mendicant who not only claims membership in a “secret chapter” of the Order of the Immovable Anchor, but that if the Shattered Serpent’s Son—the Wonder that circles above the Gardens and key to their healing properties—isn’t repaired in ten days time, it will become a Worldsnarl. The healer-florists are fairly certain these claims are naught but the phantoms of a diseased mind, but any adventurers currently visiting the Gardens might want to speak to the “mad” mendicant themselves.

  • Rumor has it that the overzealous inspectors of the local Anchorite chapter have confiscated the latest acquisition of a wealthy collector of ancient relics. As members of the Order, the inspectors have carte blanche to operate as they see fit in the region, so there’s no legal mechanism by which the collector can reclaim their property. But if someone were to “acquire” said relic from the chapter’s vault and return it to its rightful owner, those noble brigands could expect to be handsomely rewarded for their act of justified lawbreaking in the face of the Order’s overreach.

  • While at the Emerald Emperox’s Zero-G Masquerade (celebrating the 100th year of the Emperox’s reign), an Anchorite champion runs into some acquaintances—the adventurers. The champion explains that they have reason to believe that a cultist of the Awakened Dreamers has somehow secreted a Calabi–Yau destabilizer into the monarch’s currently-empty throne. When the Emperox takes their seat at the end of the night, the destabilizer will activate, and the consequences will be dire. The Anchorite entrusts a device that should contain the destabilizer to the adventurers and vanishes before they can ask any questions. Question is: how can you trust anyone’s word at a masquerade?

If you enjoy my work and would like to see more stat-less bizarrities, places of interest, odd creatures, and strange settlements, please support me on Patreon or Ko-fi! (Non-monetary support is always welcome, too. Spread the word of the #WeirdGazetteer far and wide!)

Also, please note—The Gazetteer of the Weird and all entries within it are licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License, so be cool. 

The Infinite Spool

Wonder

Description:

A smooth cylinder that’s oddly greasy to the touch, the Infinite Spool appears to be wrapped in fine thread that slowly transitions through all the colors of the rainbow (and some not found even there). 

Quirks:

The Infinite Spool gets its name from the (you guessed it) unlimited amount of incredibly strong thread that can be drawn from it. Running this thread through the small hole in the center axis of the spool hardens it into a kind of needle, and when the sewing is finished, a sharp twisting motion will cause the “needle” turn into a shimmering smoke that “sets” the rest of the thread in place, no knots required.

Adventure Hooks:

  • A tailor uses a unique Wonder—The Infinite Spool—to sew their signature mark into every piece: a complicated piece of embroidery whose pattern dazzles the eye and whose thread always changes color. It was their claim to fame, and the linchpin of their business, an unimpeachable mark of authenticity. But now other pieces have popped up on the market, each one with the same design and the same color-changing thread. Are these simply clever forgeries? Or is the tailor’s spool less unique than they claimed? 

  • Soldiers on battlefields tell tales of a mysterious cloaked surgeon who sutures wounds with color-changing thread and stitches as regular as a sewing machine. The pain during these ministrations is almost unbearable, but the wounds the surgeon cares for never grow septic, and they leave behind no scar. No one remembers the name or face of the surgeon, but an ex-soldier with a color-changing line of sutures on their brow not only says they know where to find them, but that the surgeon is deathly ill.

  • Once a year, the Archon of Amarghand opens the door in the Binding Obelisk in the plaza before their tower to reveal the Infinite Spool. In a ceremony of great import, the Archon pierces their left ear with this thread, and then travels the borders of Amarghand, laying down a shimmering trail behind them. When they return to the Binding Obelisk, the thread is withdrawn from their ear and tied off on an inscribed brass hoop. This tradition stretches back to the founding of the Archonate. and yet this year, the Archon made it no more than a day’s travel from the capital before the Infinite Spool would give up no more thread. The only difference to this year’s ritual is the presence of the Archon’s new guests: the PCs...

If you enjoy my work and would like to see more stat-less bizarrities, places of interest, odd creatures, and strange settlements, please support me on Patreon or Ko-fi! (Non-monetary support is always welcome, too. Spread the word of the #WeirdGazetteer far and wide!)

Also, please note—The Gazetteer of the Weird and all entries within it are licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License, so be cool.