Bodil's Gap Compendium Class: The Dragon-Cursed

Leaping down onto the beach, a raider rushes to overtake the settlement's defenders, eager for plunder. A lucky slash from a fisherman's knife slices across his cheek, but with a hiss his skin splits and peels to reveal glittering dragon's scales underneath, barely marred by the knife's passage...

Her boat mired in the mud by a river spirit whose burbling laugher mocks her, a merchant fumes. When the spirit's face appears over the boat's side, she lunges, arms outstretched, and her fingers twist into draconic claws as they dig into the spirit's flesh...

His shield long-since shattered, a mercenary swings his notched sword on the field of battle, driving back one attacker even as another thrusts a spear from behind, catching him in the back. The mercenary's blood boils as it sprays from his wound, splashing onto his attacker in a searing arc, and the spearman screams as his flesh burns...

Standing on the mouth of a dwarven tunnel, a treasure-seeker peers into the gloom for any sign of the stocky delvers. The mad chittering of massive beetles echoes up the tunnel instead, and the treasure-seeker unhinges her jaw to fill the tunnel with a cloud of toxic gas, her breath streaming into the darkness like a poisoned wind...

The Dragon-Cursed

In Bodil's Gap, dragons are cruel and rapacious creatures of toxic nature and influence, and their greed and hunger both seep from them like poison. Treasures that a dragon has brooded over become cursed by the dragon’s nature, and in turn their influence can spread that curse to those who behold them. Lust for gold warps into jealous possessiveness, and those who amass too many such treasures and spend too long admiring them risk changing into dragons themselves. Others may be cursed by their own ill-deeds; their own native greed and bloodlust making them no better than beasts. Whatever the source of a person’s misdeeds, to share the nature of a dragon is to slowly become one.

A Dragon's Poisoned Form

A character can become dragon-cursed by interacting with dragon gold incautiously; a dragon's treasures exert a strong influences on the mind, and if a character fails to control themselves, that influence can overtake them. However, though becoming one of the dragon-cursed is an affliction, for adventurers it can be an affliction with upsides—if one is willing to embrace the power of their curse and ride the fine line between man and monster.

Sufferers of the Dragon-Curse find their thoughts twisting in the presence of gold and other treasures, and the drive to claim and greedily hoard is strong. It can be a distraction, dragging their attention towards plunder even when other matters are more pressing, and it can make dealing with others more difficult. One of the dragon-cursed must always be vigilant in exerting their self-control.

When a person's dragon-curse warps their flesh and not just their mind, it starts in the skin. When one of the dragon-cursed is wounded, their skin splits open to reveal draconic scales underneath, leaving them with the Scarred debility as their monstrous appearance makes their curse obvious. So long as they remain Scarred, they benefit from the armour of their scales, but rest and treatment can banish their debility for a time—until they are wounded again, or voluntarily call on their curse to defend themselves.

A sufferer may also find that their hands begin warping into claws when they lash out in anger, and that this transformation has become tied to their earlier one—scales emerge as the claws do, and the claws grow in response to wounds even as the scales erupt from beneath the skin. And as long as the Scarred debility lasts, neither will recede again.

The breath of a sufferer of the Dragon-Curse can sometimes become a plume of acrid poison, and calling on this power to spew lethal fumes will likewise draw the transformation to the surface. And while transformed, a sufferer may find themselves more at home in a dragon's typical haunts—they may breath water as air, and endure in deadly environments like the boiling head of a volcanic spring, an icy mountainside, or the crushing depths of the inner earth.

Using the Dragon-Cursed

This compendium class is intended to be both a danger and an opportunity to play a character who is a little monstrous and a little conflicted. Dealing with dragons is dangerous, and the risk of becoming Dragon-Cursed is only one facet of that risk. It also offers some combat and survival oriented abilities that may supplement characters whose base playbooks offer fewer such abilities. If it can be summed up in a single image, that image is the dwarf Fafnir killing his father Hreiðmar for his share of the cursed weregild paid to their family at the death of their kinsman, and under the curse's influence transforming into a great linnorm to guard it.

Bodil's Gap is currently in playtesting, and the playtesting version of the Dragon-Cursed compendium class can be found here. If you have any insight or feedback, leave a comment or send an email to brazenhead@zoho.com.

Up Next

Next week I'll be taking a break from mechanics to write about some of the adventures that have taken place in the ongoing playtest game, starting with some unrest in a city on the brink of crisis.

Bodil's Gap Playbooks: The Goði

On the steps of a temple raised with her own hands, a priestess cuts the throat of a horse with her knife and flicks the blood across the faces of the people gathered around. The crowd roars as they prepare to march to battle, confident in the favour of the gods now marked upon their skin...

Amid the croaking of ravens, a stooped figure paces the blood-soaked battlefield searching for a lost companion. Finding the other warrior lying mortally wounded, he places his hand against the wounded man's cleft ribs and calls on the vitality of the gods. With a hiss and the scent of burning ash wood, the warrior's wound begins to close under his rescuer's touch...

In the streets of the city rival clansmen clash, overturning booths and wagons in the marketplace with their brawling. Planting herself firmly among them, a young woman calls on the authority of the Goddess of Law to lay down a geas upon the assembled fighters, forbidding them from raising arms against one another until after the next þing...

On the crest of a hill, a man draws back his bowstring, a prayer to the God of the Sky on his tongue. His arrow crackles with the power of a lightning bolt as he holds the string taut, and when he releases, it lances down to land among his foes with the explosive force of a thunderclap...

The Goði

The Mortal World exists as it does through the efforts of the divine. When ancient giants still ruled in the shadow of the World Tree, it was the gods and goddesses who threw them back into the Primordial Realms of Ice and Fire, and who slew their progenitors and fully third of their numbers. In the aftermath, it was the three brother gods who shaped the Mortal World from giant's flesh, and so doing became the Wild Gods of Mountains, Sea, and Sky. And it was the the three sister goddesses who made humankind from ash and elm wood to people the new land, and who taught them their first lessons, becoming the Hearth Goddesses of Law, War, and Craft by doing so.

The gods and goddesses still watch over the mortal world and its denizens, and it is the role of the Goði to be their agent in the mortal world. A Goði is responsible for managing the community's relationship with the divine, and in return they are granted the favour of the gods and the ability to call on divine power in times of extremity or need.

Every Goði has access to some generic powers, but much of what an individual Goði can do is also determined by their choice of Divine Patron. Bodil's Gap is a setting under the purview of six deities, each with their own domain and powers; by pledging oneself to a particular deity or subset of deities over the others, one Goði can wield wildly different abilities from another. Many of a Goði's powers also rely on an expenditure of divine power that can only be gained through sacrifice. When in need of another boon from the gods, a Goði must turn to offerings to ensure the goodwill of the divine still rests with them.

The Power of the Gods

Every Goði's most basic powers stem from their particular Divine Patron. The simple attention of a god or goddess grants every Goði a simple, passive ability, and the power to call on greater divine favour to imbue themselves with a particular blessing. A devotee of the God of the Sea, for example, finds water posing less of an obstacle in any form, and may call on even greater power to breath below the waves as though in open air. A follower of the Goddess of War, meanwhile, is never burdened by armour no matter how heavy, and may call on greater power to strengthen their own strikes while turning aside the blows of their enemies.

Greater favour allows a Goði to call on yet greater powers. A follower of the God of the Mountains, for example, can gain the endurance of a stone, shape the bones of the earth with a word, follow the scent of gold, or call boiling magma from the inner earth to swallow their foes. A worshiper of the Goddess of Craft can repair or even improve objects with a touch, make divination about a person from the things they touch, grant objects the lightness of a feather, or work in magical materials to produce tools and items of great power.

Some abilities are also open to a Goði regardless of their particular patron. A talented Goði may heal the injured, grant good luck to all those who partake of a feast made from the beasts they sacrifice, bless a person by flecking them with sacrificial blood, or even summon one of the servants of their divine patron, whichever god or goddess they be.

Authority in the Community

Because of their important role as an intercessor with the divine, a Goði also wields a great deal of influence among the folk of Bodil's Gap. A Goði is often called on to oversee oaths and promises, and can wield their influence to ensure such promises are kept. They can call on the community to assemble for a festival or rite, or to bring tithes and offerings to support a higher cause. They can raise an altar or temple to serve as a locus of power for their rites and offerings, and they can draw fellow adherents of their particular patron to become their followers and acolytes.

Using the Goði

This playbook is intended for characters who are a combination of leader and wonder-worker, calling on the favour of higher powers to support their allies and their community at large, while also having access to some more direct divine abilities. Like the Óttimaðr, Goði is a playbook without a single root image, stemming more from my desire to rework and re-theme the generic Cleric for a non-generic setting. Use it instead of playbooks like Cleric or Paladin to present a warrior and leader empowered by the gods of a wild land and its people.

Bodil's Gap is currently in playtesting, and the playtesting version of the Goði playbook can be found here. If you have any insight or feedback, leave a comment or send an email to brazenhead@zoho.com.

Up Next

Next week I'll be talking about one or two of the Compendium Classes for Bodil's Gap, starting with the terrifying Dragon-Cursed.

Bodil's Gap Playbooks: The Óttimaðr

On the edge of the storm-tossed sea, a warrior hefts his sword in the face of a horde of brine-soaked corpses surging out of the waves to stagger onto the beach, pitted iron weapons still clutched in their waterlogged hands. Channeling the strength of a giant's footfall into his blow, he strike the earth, and the beach heaves as the earth trembles, hurling draugar from their feet like discarded dolls...

In the mouth of a high mountain pass, the thunderous crack of falling ice sounds above the howling of the wind as a torrent of snow and debris avalanches down towards a slow-moving wagon train. At the head of the procession, a bent old woman with skin tinged an icy blue raises her arms and calls on the power of the Primordial Realm of Ice. Before her outstretched hands, the avalanche parts, flowing past the wagon train with a handspan to spare on either side...

Feet tearing at the blood-slicked grass, two rivals clash as other warriors battle on all around them. One cries out as the other's sword pierces his side, his hand coming up to grip the blade even as it cuts into his fingers and scrapes upon his ribs. His eyes blaze with the flames of the Primordial Realm of Fire, and under his hand his rival's sword begins to glow an angry red, the iron deforming in the heat of his grip...

In the shadow of an ancient barrow, a thick stone door bars passage down to the burial chamber where an ancient jarl was entombed with all his wealth and treasures. Hand pressed against the immovable stone, a young woman slips closer to the Realm of the Dead, her flesh turning to grey mist, and she passes through the door as though it were never there, descending into the hillside as silent and insubstantial as a ghost...

The Óttimaðr

Before any other living creature appeared beneath the branches of the World Tree, the giants were there. Children of the Primordial Realms of Fire and Ice, and heirs to the chaotic power of raw, unshaped creation, they were the masters of óttimáttr, sorcery that channels the power that churns in the realms beyond the Mortal World.

Giants are not the only practitioners of this grim art, however. Whether through service under a giant master, terrible research, or incautious exposure to the power of other realms, sometimes a mortal man or woman may find the secrets of óttimáttr within their grasp. An Óttimaðr must be cautious, however, for the use of these powers risks drawing the attention of the Jotnar who dwell in the realms beyond the Mortal World, and their scrutiny is a heavy weight for a mere mortal to bear.

The Power of the Realms Beyond

The powers of an Óttimaðr can vary widely based on the particular Primordial Realm from which they draw their magic. One with a link to the Realm of Fire is the master of scorching flames, blazing heat, smoke and ash, and molten rock and metal; while one connected to the Realm of Ice has at their command all the sleet, ice, snow, and freezing fog of winter. Stranger still are those whose powers are drawn from the Realm of the Dead, for their magic manifests itself in stone and bone, dust and grave dirt, and creeping putrefaction.

With the powers of primordial chaos in their grasp, an Óttimaðr can wield weapons of fire, ice, or bone conjured from nothing; shape walls and barriers of elemental matter; go unscathed into raging flames, freezing waters, or places of sickness and rot; and even manifest the landscape of their realm upon the face of the Mortal World. They can melt metal at a touch and vomit forth sulfurous smoke to choke the lungs and sting the eyes of their enemies, vanish into a swirl of snow like a phantom and imprison any foe they touch in a block of ice, or unleash plague and rot with upon their foes' flesh with every stroke of their weapons. Any way the raw stuff of the elements may be made useful, an Óttimaðr has open to them.

The Strength of the Giants

Alongside the sorcerous powers of the raw elements, an Óttimaðr is also able to channel the physical strength and endurance of the giants themselves. Giantish vitality flows in their veins, and they can draw on it to strengthen their limbs, quicken their thoughts, and project the force of their personality out from them. They can harden their skin to the toughness of a giant's hide, turning aside blows with their bare flesh as though it were armour, and they can surge with the physical power of a titan at a whim. In the most obvious expression of this power, they can even grow to a giant's stature themselves, towering over trees and longhouses at the height of their momentary transformation.

Using the Óttimaðr

This playbook is intended for spell-casters who wish to pursue a high-risk, high-reward style of magic that compliments direct physical action. Unlike other playbooks, however, I'm not sure this one can be summed up in a single image, nor does it have any direct analogues in the core playbooks of Dungeon World. It owes some inspiration to both the sorcerer and the warlock of other rpgs, and should be used in a similar context, to represent a spell-caster whose magic is either a dangerous bargain, a strange birthright, or some kind of metaphysical affliction. If it has any spokesperson, perhaps it is the shapeshifter Loki, wielding magic tricks and his giantish nature on a variety of adventures with his friend, the god Thor—at least before things went sour...

Bodil's Gap is currently in playtesting, and the playtesting version of the Óttimaðr playbook can be found here. If you have any insight or feedback, leave a comment or send an email to brazenhead@zoho.com.

Up Next

Next week I'll be talking about the Goði, a priest of one or more of the gods and goddesses of Bodil's Gap, and a leading or influence in the community.

Bodil's Gap Playbooks: The Skald

Standing before the city's gates, two armed men bar the way against a visitor in a colourful cloak. In a musical voice, the traveler commands them to stand aside—and for an instant they step back, stunned, just long enough for her to slip through the gates and away...

On the deck of a ship rolling over turbulent waters, a wizened old man dresses his captain in a cloak patterned like fish's scales and paints on his face, in blood, the famous scars of a legendary hero who swam to the bottom of the sea to fight a kraken. Taking a deep gulp of air, the captain fills his lungs with the inexhaustible breath of a legend, and plunges into the cold water...

Standing atop a rocky outcrop, a young woman looks out over the battle raging below. Fingers plucking at the silver strings of her harp, she raises her voice in the saga of a terrible storm that once swept the land. Overhead, the clouds twist and churn as the heavens mimic her story, wind sweeping the enemy's arrows from the sky as lightning strikes amidst their lines...

Hemmed in on both sides by foes, a man stands with his back against a tree, brandishing sword and shield. As the crash of sword against shield and the ringing of iron on iron merge into a steady cadence, he recites a line from the saga of a great battle, and the tip of his sword leaves an enemy's throat a gurgling ruin...

The Skald

Stories hold an intense power of their own. They are the currency of common culture, and the archetypes and narratives they contain have a great influence on the minds of mortal men and women. Their influence goes beyond that, however; told with enough skill and passion, a story can influence the world itself, moving earth and sky no less powerfully than a human listener. This is galdr, the magic of inspiration and narrative, and the art of the Skald.

Whether taught the secrets of music and poetry by a spirit or able to grasp such things through divine inspiration or long study, a Skald can speak a story and make it true merely by the act of speaking.

The Power of Legend

Core to a Skald's power is the recitation of legendary sagas. Although individual tales are infinite, each falls into a broad archetype—a saga of the wilderness, a saga of war... By reciting one of these, a Skald can invoke the events and circumstance of legend in the present. And as the recitation continues and the saga progresses from its opening lines to its climax, the power a Skald wields through it only grows, finally manifesting in a crescendo of its own before fading away.

By reciting a saga of war, a Skald can sharpen their allies' blades, strengthen their arms, or turn the strikes of their enemies into glancing blows. With a saga of fortitude and endurance, they can let their allies ignore exhaustion, wounds, poison, and disease. The saga of a great storm can whip the sky into a frenzy of wind, thunder, and lightning, while a saga of the wilderness can draw animals near, force trees to blossom and bear fruit in an instant, or reshape the land itself to the Skald's advantage.

Sagas are not the only invocation of legend a Skald has access to, however. By hanging the trappings of a past hero on someone, a Skald can grant that person a measure of that hero's power, and allow them to echo that hero's deeds. And by recognizing the shapes of stories as they encounter them, a Skald can learn a great deal about the people they meet merely by understanding what archetypes they embody—whether the proud rival, the doomed mentor, the tragic lover, or some other stock figure of the sagas.

The Silver Tongue of a Poet

Less overtly magical is a Skald's talent for music and poetry—a talent that makes a skilled Skald welcome almost anywhere, for poetry and music are the main forms of entertainment in Bodil's Gap. An artful recitation can bring life to a celebration and see a Skald showered in coins, while the promise of such can prove tempting to even the canniest negotiators.

A Skald is also a master of obscure lore, for their repertory of tales and sagas includes countless ancient legends and historical accounts. Their peerless grasp of riddles also grants them a knowledge of such obscure matters, and they can glean insights about any opponent with whom they match wits in a riddling contest.

Even outside the realms of poetry, a Skald's words carry the force of their will and the power of galdr. With a quick command, a Skald can set someone to motion before they have a chance to consider their actions, while a deception uttered with enough conviction will go totally unexamined so long as the Skald maintains it in their mind.

Using the Skald

This playbook is intended for spell-casters who wish to influence people and events both with their magic and with their words. If it can be summed up in a single image, that image is Egil Skallagrimsson reciting a poem before the King of Norway in exchange for his own freedom, and finding not only safety but fame and renown.

Although its greatest magics are overt, the Skald has a lot of subtle power and social influence. Use it instead of a playbook like the Bard to present a spell-caster whose magic depends on the power of narrative causality, and who has a story for every occasion.

Bodil's Gap is currently in playtesting, and the playtesting version of the Skald playbook can be found here. If you have any insight or feedback, leave a comment or send an email to brazenhead@zoho.com.

Up Next

Next week I'll be talking about the Óttimáðr, a sorcerer endowed with the dread power of the primordial giants, and burdened by their scrutiny.

Bodil's Gap Playbook: The Rúngaeti

Descending a winding tunnel beneath the earth, a warrior advances deeper into the trolls’ lair. Held before him, his drawn sword blazes with runes of smokeless flame and dazzling light, illuminating the path before him and sending rats and other vermin scuttling in fear.

On the shore of a raging river swollen with torrential rain, white water froths and spills over the banks to lap at the feet of a horse bearing a cloaked rider. Atop her horse, the woman speaks a rune of chilling cold, and her breath becomes a boreal wind that freezes the river’s surface into a glittering bridge of ice, allowing horse and rider to cross...

In the ruddy light of a blazing forge, a smith stamps the last rune into the hide of his creation. Shuddering to life, a horse with golden skin and iron hooves rises to its feet and awaits its creators’ command...

Under the open sky, a woman scatters runestones across the grass of the meadow, keen eyes flicking from sign to sign. Looking up, she makes prophecy for all present to hear, warning those gathered around of the coming danger...

The Rúngaeti

The letters of the gods, runes channel the pure power of the World Tree, each shaping that power into a single aspect and manifesting it into the mortal world. One who learns the runes can wield incredible power, and in Bodil’s Gap, the Rúngaeti is the true master of this art: rúnrista.

Rúnrista is a magic of hidden knowledge. Each rune is at once a secret that must be found and a riddle to be unraveled before an aspiring practitioner can make use of it, and the practice of rúnrista is both scholarly and contemplative. Once a rune has been mastered, however, a Rúngaeti can wield it to produce powerful effects related to its concept.

Mechanically, every rune is also a tag, and a Rúngaeti can apply the tags of runes they have learned to a variety of powers. Different Rúngaetir can have very different abilities based not only on what moves they take, but on what runes they choose to learn.

Write the World

By carving runes into wood, metal, bone, or stone, a Rúngaeti can permanently imbue objects with the power of those runes. With a rune inscribed on its blade, a sword can crackle with flames, grow to razor keenness, or gain an aura of supernatural dread. And with greater skill and power, a Rúngaeti can inscribe two or even three runes at a time, combing these or other effects to create a weapon of devastating power.

With a line of runes across the threshold, a doorway can become an impenetrable barrier to trolls, spirits, or simple brigands. And with greater skill, it can punish those forbidden who attempt to cross, lashing out with freezing cold or stunning force.

With runes upon its face, a standing stone can become a nexus of power, projecting the influence of your runes into the surrounding area in a variety of ways, bound only by the limits of the Rúngaeti's imagination and the runes they know.

Other runes can bring life to the lifeless. Inscribed on a well-made effigy, these runes grant living motion to inanimate creatures of stone or wood, turning statues into able servitors bound to the Rúngaeti's will.

Yet other runes may be traced temporarily in blood, salt, or oil for more fleeting effect. With a protective sign, armour can be made to turn aside blades, arrows, or hostile spells. And other objects can be made to briefly hold the power of a rune, ready to release it at the Rúngaeti's command or at a predetermined time or circumstance.

Pronounce Words of Power

Far more rarefied is the ability to speak a rune aloud to invoke its power. When threatened by danger, a skilled Rúngaeti can utter the name of a rune to banish or counteract effects related to that rune's domain. A rune of fire can quench flames, for example, while a rune of bindings can undo knots or loosen a serpent's coiled embrace.

And with a greater act of will, a Rúngaeti can imbue their breath with the power of a rune spoken aloud, turning their very words into a torrent of wind, a flash of blinding light, or a razor-edged blade.

Using the Rúngaeti

This playbook is intended for spell-casters who want to take a direct hand in conflict, rather than hanging back influencing events from the rear or the sidelines. If it can be summed up in a single image, that image is Gandalf brandishing the runed sword Glamdring in the hall of the Goblin King, his sword flashing with fearsome light.

With their power to enhance both their own arms and armour and those of their allies, or to lead dependable constructs into battle, the Rúngaeti is well suited to working on the front lines of any battle. Use it instead of or alongside playbooks like the Wizard or Paladin to present a spell-caster whose magic calls for foresight and preparation, but which can carry them into battle and out again unscathed.

Bodil's Gap is currently in playtesting, and the playtesting version of the Rúngaeti playbook can be found here. If you have any insight or feedback, leave a comment or send an email to brazenhead@zoho.com.

Up Next

Next week I'll be talking about the Skald, a warrior-poet able to invoke the power of the sagas they recite to mimic or reproduce legendary deeds and events.

Bodil's Gap Playbooks: the Seiðkona

Swarming out of the underbrush, three brigands bar the way of a lone traveller riding an ill-kept road, their swords already drawn as they make their demands. With a word and a gesture from the rider, their leader's hand becomes a magpie's wing, his sword clattering to the ground as his fingers twist into feathers...

Propped against a craggy boulder on a wooded hill, an old man's body leans stiff as an oak plank, guarded by the watchful eyes of owls. Silent and invisible, his spirit roams free of his flesh, slipping down the long slope to spy on the marching column of warriors beyond the treeline...

At the rubble-choked entrance of a collapsed mine, a young woman calls out to the earth for strength. Her body spasms as a spirit of rock and soil enters her, then surges with strength as she begins to lift boulders the size of a wagon wheel with her bare hands, tossing mountains of stone aside to clear the way down into the dark...

On a cliff overlooking the sea, a hooded figure watches a fleet of ships approaching, sails taut against the wind that drives them toward the mouth of the fjord. The wind twists in the man's grip as he invokes the spirits of the sky, shifting the gale to drive the invading ships past the fjord's mouth and to crash on the jagged rocks at the cliff's base...

The Seiðkona

Bodil's Gap is a setting with several different kinds of magic, each with its own traditions and practitioners. Among these styles, seiðr is the most subtle and varied, and of its practitioners, the Seiðkona is the undisputed master.

Seiðr is the magic of spirits, and its practitioners find power by bargaining with otherworldly beings or channeling their own vitality to work their magical art. It is a magic of curses and enchantments, of spells to transform and alter the world, changing the properties of people, places, and objects to suit the Seiðkona's whims. Unlike a Wizard, it does not pick spells, but uses a variety of moves to produce magical effects.

Plague your Foes with a Thousand Curses

Not for the Seiðkona, the vulgar hurling of fireballs or lightning bolts; in battle, the art of seiðr is best used to harass enemies and support allies with a variety of debilitating curses. With a word and a gesture, a Seiðkona can curdle the luck of an enemy for a moment, dulling their next strike, fating them to greater harm, or confounding their ability to resist the tricks and maneuvers of those battling them more directly.

With greater skill, a Seiðkona can begin to transform an enemy's very body, twisting parts of their anatomy into animal shapes to hamper their ability to fight—forcing them to drop their shield from a hand turned into a dog's paw, stumble about on a goat's leg, or swallow orders issued from a bird's beak, for example. Other moves allow a Seiðkona to send a fragments of waking nightmares to distort what their victims see into confusing and deceptive dreamscapes; or conjure angry ghosts into the bodies of their enemies, forcing them to struggle for control over their own limbs.

Most flexibly, a Seiðkona can shape their Seiðr Invocation into any curse or enchantment they can describe, so long as they can work around the requirements of their spell—for the magic can be quick, or enduring, or without cost, but never all three.

Command the Spirits

Apart from the magic they can work under their own power, the Seiðkona is also able to bargain with or command spirits. Whether binding the ghosts of the dead to their will or treating with the spirits of the wild for favours, a Seiðkona is at home in the twilight realm between human civilization and the otherworld of invisible powers.

With their influence over the spirit world, a Seiðkona can bind a spirit to watch over a place and magically report back, or to defend such a place against any intruders the Seiðkona deems unwelcome. They can wrest answers from even unwilling spirits, or invite a spirit to possess their body in exchange for power and the use of the being's own native abilities. A particularly charming Seiðkona may even persuade a spirit to accompany them as a companion, offering its skills and aid to the Seiðkona for as long as the bargain between them remains unbroken.

Using the Seiðkona

This playbook is intended for cunning spell-casters who manipulate their foes with curses and transformations, and for those who wish to forge a relationship with otherworldy forces. If it can be summed up in a single image, that image is Baba Yaga, working magic in her hut guarded by three horsemen who are the Day, the Night, and the Sun. Use it instead of or alongside playbooks like the Wizard or Druid to present a spell-caster whose magic is folkloric and primal.

Bodil's Gap is currently in playtesting, and the playtesting version of the Seiðkona playbook can be found here. If you have any insight or feedback, leave a comment or send an email to brazenhead@zoho.com.

Up Next

I realize that last week I said I would do the Goði next, and obviously I haven't done it this week. Originally I was intending to present the setting's custom playbooks in alphabetical order, but I've since decided to do them in the order they were designed, since the older playbooks have had more revision time. To that end, next week I'll be talking about the Rúngaeti playbook, a different kind of spellcaster who gains their power by mastery of the runes.

Bodil's Gap Playbooks: The Dýrsark

At the forefront of the charging army, a hulking warrior froths at the mouth at the sight of his enemies. Just before the two armies clash, he howls a blood-curdling war cry that sends lesser fighters scattering in fear...

On the deck of a ship, the sea serpent's coils wrap around the creaking mast and the armoured figure of the ship's captain, its fangs snapping inches from her face. Limbs flooding with furious strength, the shield-maiden takes the worm's head in her hands and tears it jaw-from-jaw even as one fang sinks into her arm...

Alone in the snowy forest, a wind-blown traveller is beset by stalking wolves led by one of the Sunchaser's spawn, their teeth snaring his cloak and biting at his arms and legs. The sword drops from his hand as his flesh warps and spasms, the mighty form of a bear overtaking his own as bestial rage fills him...

In the leaping flames of a burning hall, a warrior prowls between blazing pillars and clouds of smoke, seeking her rival. Flames lap at the warrior's skin, but the cold touch of a valkyrie on her shoulder makes her impervious to the fires she stalks through, ruddy light gleaming off her bared blade...

The Dýrsark

Of all the playbooks designed for Bodil's Gap, the Dýrsark is the most martial, embodying the warrior archetype of the berserker. A Dýrsark is a whirling beast on the battlefield, cleaving foes left and right while in the grip of an intense battle rage, and their presence is a powerful demoralizing force for their foes. 

Dýrsark is a warrior playbook first and foremost, but it isn't the simple and straightforward style of combatant best represented by the Fighter playbook. In its approach to combat it embraces a strong supernatural undertone, and even a Dýrsark who chooses wholly mundane moves is distinguished from the Fighter by its bestial fighting style and powerful battle frenzy.

Fight like a Beast

The defining feature of the Dýrsark is its berserker fury. At any moment a Dýrsark can work themselves into an intense rage or battle frenzy, and this altered state allows them to strike harder; shrug off powerful blows; and even ignore fear, exhaustion, or bloody wounds to carry on fighting. This power is not without cost, however, for whenever a Dýrsark emerges from their berserk fit, the strain of their exertions leaves them dazed.

This battle frenzy is not the only hallmark of the Dýrsark, however. To control the well of bloodlust that they carry within, every Dýrsark channels this rage by emulating one of the ferocious beasts of the Gap, adopting either the cunning of a wolf, the strength of a bear, or the viciousness of a wild boar. This almost totemic inspiration so fundamentally alters the way a Dýrsark does battle that it shapes their fighting style both in the grip of their rage and out of it. 

Mechanically, a warrior who becomes a Dýrsark can never again use the normal Hack and Slash move; instead, whenever they engage foes in melee they must use the move associated with their particular bestial inspiration. One who embraces the Wolf's Cunning is adept at fighting alongside their allies, hounding and maneuvering their foes to better employ pack tactics and grant the advantage to their comrades. One who embraces the Bear's Strength is able to bring overwhelming force to bear, shattering their enemy's defenses and weapons and delivering blows of incredible power. And one who embraces the Boar's Viciousness is a force of unbridled aggression whose every blow leaves ragged and debilitating wounds, able to maim and dismember with cruel ease.

The greatest expression of this bestial fervour for battle, however, is demonstrated by the Dýrsark whose fury overcomes even their humanity. Those who sink deep enough into their rage twist and warp, their very flesh changing to suit the unreasoning aggression within. While in the grip of their battle frenzy, these warriors physically transform into the beasts they emulate, taking on the shape of wolf, bear, or boar to run wild and do battle red in tooth and claw.

Win the Favour of the Valkyries

Across Bodil's Gap, the choosers of the slain stalk battlefields and slaughtering grounds wrapped in cloaks woven from the cold flames of the aurora, seeking out the glorious dead for the armies of the gods. Many are those killed at a Dýrsark's hands, and the favour of the valkyries is quickly won by those who continue to provide them such a wealth of slain warriors to choose from.

The benefits of this favour are great. The influence of a valkyrie's attention can dull swords and cool flames that threaten a Dýrsark as they wade into battle, while the touch of a valkyrie's shimmering cloak can render a Dýrsark totally immune to fires of all kinds. In tense moments of confrontation or imminent violence, the whisper of a valkyrie in a Dýrsark's ear can guide them towards their enemy's weakness. And in dire circumstances, the favour of the valkyries can twist the strands of a Dýrsark's fate to bring them the stroke of luck they need to survive.

Those most powerfully blessed by the valkyries can even channel the strength of the einherjar—those warriors ascended to the halls of the gods to fight on eternally—to shout with the force of a gale and the blast of a sounding horn; or to fight even beyond their own deaths, ignoring their own fatal wound so long as foes remain on the battlefield.

Using the Dýrsark

This playbook is intended for mighty warriors guided as much by instinct as by strategy, for those beloved by the gods of battle, and for those of a barbaric or savage bent. If it can be summed up in a single image, that image is Beowulf tearing off Grendel's arm with his bare hands. Use it instead of or alongside playbooks like Fighter or Barbarian to present a warrior right out of the sagas.

Bodil's Gap is currently in playtesting, and the playtesting version of the Dýrsark playbook can be found here. If you have any insight or feedback, leave a comment or send an email to brazenhead@zoho.com.

Up Next

Next week I'll be talking about the Goði playbook, a priestly servant of the gods and leader of the community, dedicated to a particular divine patron and able to call on miracles in their name—at the cost of a sacrifice in blood.