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Credits

Written by: Wolfgang Baur, Jeff Grubb, Ben McFarland, Adam Roy, Christina Stiles, and Wade Rockett

Art: Mark Smylie, Guido Kuip, Pat Loboyko, Malcolm McClinton, Lucas Haley, and David Wenzel

Cartography: Jonathan Roberts

Graphic Design: Marc Radle

Special thanks to Morgan Boehringer for the Bloodreavers

Editing: Wolfgang Baur
Editing: Wolfgang Baur

Open Design, Kobold Press, and Midgard are trademarks of Open Design, LLC. Pathfinder is a registered trademark of Paizo Publishing, LLC, and the Pathfinder® Roleplaying Game and the Pathfinder® Roleplaying Game Compatibility Logo are trademarks of Paizo Publishing, LLC, and are used under the Pathfinder® Roleplaying Game Compatibility License. See http:// paizo.com/pathfinderRPG/compatibility for more information on the compatibility license.

Compatibility with the Pathfinder® Roleplaying Game requires the Pathfinder® Roleplaying Game from Paizo Publishing, LLC. See http://paizo. com/pathfinderRPG for more information on the Pathfinder® Roleplaying Game. Paizo, Publishing, LLC does not guarantee compatibility, and does not endorse the product.

Open Game Content: The Open content in this issue includes the huginn characters and huginn sorcerous bloodline. All other material is Product Identity, especially place names, character names, locations, story elements, and fiction. No other portion of this work may be reproduced in any form without permission.

©2012 Open Design LLC. All rights reserved. www.koboldquarterly.com

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may be reproduced in any form without permission. ©2012 Open Design LLC. All rights reserved. www.koboldquarterly.com

At World the Sign Serpent of the

At World the Sign Serpent of the By Wade Rockett “I confess that I do not
At World the Sign Serpent of the By Wade Rockett “I confess that I do not
At World the Sign Serpent of the By Wade Rockett “I confess that I do not

By Wade Rockett

“I confess that I do not like the look of this so-called inn,” said Benedict, gazing at the rickety building before them. His smaller companion yawned. “I care little for appearances,” Jerika sad. “If the beds are tolerably comfortable and the food does not scream and try to kill me when I cut into it, I would pronounce it the best lodging we’ve had in our travels through the Western Wastes.” “Nevertheless…” said

Benedict doubtfully. She cut him off. “Nevertheless, night is falling and this is the only inn – or thing that could be described as ‘inn-like’ – within miles. Verrayne is two days’ ride away, and I needn’t remind you what the night brings outside the boundaries of what passes for civilization here.” She yawned again. “Therefore, I am going to enter this quaint hovel and fall asleep as soon as I can, dreaming of hot baths and clean clothes, and the Green Duke’s reward for delivering our cargo.” Jerika patted the scroll case slung over her shoulder, carved

from the tooth of an ancient red dragon and inscribed with Ankeshelian glyphs. The she strode through the crooked doorway. Benedict gave one more mistrustful look at the hanging sign, which bore a crude drawing of a serpent devouring its tail. The creature’s visible eye seemed to look back at him, and its mouth curled in a leer.

The inn’s insides were no more impressive than its outside; but the main room was warm and fragrant with the smell of roasting meat, ale and pipe smoke, and the beds appeared to have fewer vermin nesting in them than was usual in the Wastes. Jerika happily pronounced it sufficient to her needs and paid the cost of a night’s stay to the innkeeper – a kobold with eyes that bulged slightly and an unpleasant habit of rapidly licking his lips.

They rested for a bit in the main room where the innkeeper silently served them meat and boiled parsnips on rough wooden plates. When Benedict finished his portion and rose to seek his bed, he noticed that a groove had been carved across the plate by an errant knife. It looked something like a round eye with a slitted pupil. Later that night Benedict awoke to the deafening sound

of something huge being dragged across the floor. For a moment he was annoyed, wondering why the innkeeper had decided to rearrange his tables while his guests were sleeping. In the next instant he was on his feet, sword in hand, eyes wide and straining to see in the darkness. He had heard that sound before, while a mercenary in the Dragoncoil Mountains far to the south.

to see in the darkness. He had heard that sound before, while a mercenary in the

Midgard Preview

Midgard Preview VELES JÖRMUNGANDR) (OUROBOROS OR God of the Earth and Waters, Creator of Midgard, Father
Midgard Preview VELES JÖRMUNGANDR) (OUROBOROS OR God of the Earth and Waters, Creator of Midgard, Father
VELES JÖRMUNGANDR) (OUROBOROS OR God of the Earth and Waters, Creator of Midgard, Father of
VELES JÖRMUNGANDR) (OUROBOROS OR
God of the Earth and Waters, Creator of Midgard, Father of
Serpents, Lord of Oceans, Emperor of Earthquakes, Patron of
Giants and Dragons, Voice of Distant Stars
Domains: Apocalypse+, Deep+,
Destruction, Drakes+, Earth,
Fish+, Hunger#, Magic, Rune,
Scalykind, Sea Monster+,
Strength, Water
Subdomains: Caves,
Catastrophe, Dark
Tapestry, Dragon,
Ferocity, Insanity, Oceans,
Prophecy*, Rage, Resolve,
Wards
Alignment: Neutral
Favored Weapon: Bite, spear, and
battle ax

Sirash Atakh, which she liberated from the Fane of Blood by stealth and cunning. She laid her hand upon it on the thousandth night since his death, when Eltanin and Zuhal were aligned and shone upon her. My gaze was drawn, and she has been marked for my purpose. Benedict’s dealings with gods were rare, but he knew better than to ask one its purpose. Instead he said, “What would you have me do?” You will go with her on her journey. And when it is needful to do so, one day you will give your life for her. The eye receded rapidly, and Benedict found himself looking out at a world like a coin, hanging in darkness among silver stars: its mountains, rivers, oceans, and shining ley lines encircled by a great serpent with its tail caught between its own jaws. The waters of the world spilled endlessly down into the void. All around it the voices of living stars rang like bells of silver, singing of the beginning and end of all things.

of silver, singing of the beginning and end of all things. *** Benedict felt a kick
of silver, singing of the beginning and end of all things. *** Benedict felt a kick

***

Benedict felt a kick in his ribs. He opened his eyes to find Jerika glaring down at him. “The inn’s gone,” she said. “What?” He rose on one elbow and looked around. He was lying prone on the unmistakable rocky soil of the Western Wastes, the light of the noonday sun warped and made feeble by the land’s tainted magic. His few belongings were neatly piled near the horses, who stood placidly where the stables had been. “It’s a fine thing when an honest traveller pays for a night’s room only to have it vanish from around her. Perun’s daughter,” she said with horror, “what of the food we ate? Do we now have stones or worse in our bellies?” Benedict lay back on the rocky ground and looked up at the sun, shining overhead like a great golden eye. He passed his hand over his face, took a deep breath, and rose to his feet. “It could be worse,” he said. “Come on. We have places to be.” “Aye,” Jerika said, brightening somewhat. “Verrayne. Hot baths, clean clothes, and the Duke’s reward.” Whistling an old Perunalian marching song, she walked over to the horses and began preparing them for travel. “Aye,” said Benedict, watching his companion. “That and more, apparently.” He buckled his sword belt, hefted his pack, and walked after her.

It was the sound of something the size of a hill, covered in scales as big as a fighter’s shield, slithering. And, impossibly, it was coming from Jerika’s room. He dashed into the hall and threw open her door, then froze in astonishment. The grubby little room and its furnishings were gone. Instead he found himself looking into a vast golden eye, with a giant black pupil like a bottomless hole that could swallow the entire world. Suspended before it, like a speck of dust drifting past the sun, was Jerika. She looked dead or asleep, her eyes closed and her head thrown back. Her hair and clothes spread out around her as if she were in deep water. Hanging in space next to her was the dragontooth scroll case. Little animal, said a voice. Tell me where you are. Again, Benedict’s memory reached back to his days as a sell-sword for the Mharoti Empire. This was a catechism he’d overheard often from fellow soldiers. “I am in Midgard,” he said. Where is Midgard? “In the coils of Veles, the World Serpent.” Who is Veles? Benedict thought rapidly. “God of the Earth and Waters, Creator of Midgard, Father of Serpents, Lord of Oceans, Emperor of Earthquakes, Patron of Giants and Dragons, Voice of Distant Stars.” He sincerely hoped this was the last question, because at this point in the litany he had invariably become bored and wandered off in search of drink or women. Thankfully, his interrogator seemed satisfied. Little animal, your companion bears a relic of my slain child,

The Bloodtide By Jeff Grubb It had all seemed so simple, back in Savoyne, safely
The Bloodtide By Jeff Grubb It had all seemed so simple, back in Savoyne, safely

The Bloodtide

By Jeff Grubb

It had all seemed so simple, back in Savoyne, safely behind the protection of the Raven’s Wall. A simple mission into the Wasted West, to the reputed wreckage of a particular now-dead necromancer’s tower. Said necromancer was not even one of the major spellcasters who evoked the Great Mage War, but some non-entity low in the pecking order, some punter who had just enough wits about him to hold his own piece of ground before everything went slidewise in the West and aberrations erupted. The job itself would be in and out. A quick recce, a smash and grab, pick up the loose stuff and if they found anything good, mark it for a larger expedition later. Easy- peasy. Now, stumbling through brambles that looked like shadows but stung like wasps, the cruel laughter behind me, I was having second thoughts. There had been four of us; Sanclava, Jeronathes, Boswin, and me. Jeronathes had found the reference in an old spellbook. Sanclava was Jer’s lover, so she was in as well. Boswin was dubious on the matter, but there was no way they were going into a necromancer’s tower, no matter how ruined, without a priest of Ceres. We weren’t stupid. And now the others were dead, and I had no doubt I would soon follow them. My pursuers, laughing and chanting old childrens’ rhymes, were gaining on me. We had crossed the Goblin Wastes with little incident, avoiding patrols of Dust Diggers and Bloody Tusks, and even a red-cloaked unit of Scarlet Rovers. The sky curdled above us in the way that only the heavens of the Wasted West could, malignant and dark. It rained bone splinters and black stones, and we took shelter inside the skull of some extinct leviathan. On the horizon, a mountain shrieked in an almost-human tongue, and a foul wind carried its haunted song across the grey dunes to the ears of the doomed. We hid when we were able, fled when we could, and fought when we had to. And at last we arrived at the twisted stump that had been the necromancer’s castle. It was little more than a cairn of stones now, and no one would have paid much attention to it, unless they were looking for it. There was a door, partially blocked and magically sealed but easily cleared and unlocked by the words from Jeronathes’ tome. It slid back to reveal a staircase: the promised lower labs. The walls and floor were smooth and polished, as if worn by the passage of innumerable feet and the

ministrations of countless servants. Boswin readied his holy symbol, a sickle entwined by snakes, as we pressed into the darkness. Our first plan, to pick up a few of the choicest bits, quickly came a cropper. There were no bits to choose. Not a scrap of furniture, not a tapestry, not a potion bottle, and most curious for a necromancer’s cellar, not a single dead body. Larger stone crypts were there, now opened and empty, and further in the darkness was a deep, base humming, But nothing among the dozen rooms we searched. Not even a biscuit. Sanclava cursed and said she could not believe Jeronathes had talked her into this. Jer was sure that the door was sealed – perhaps the cellars had been abandoned before the Great Mage War itself, or followers had come after later and cleared the place. I noted that they were very neat followers to leave such a barren domain behind, and Sanclava cursed again at the lot of us. And that was when they heard the noise of bone grinding against bone, a cascade of clattering, coming from behind us, from the direction of the surface. We looked as one as a tide of bones and blood surged down the hallway towards us. And I realized why the surfaces were so smooth and polished, and why nothing else was found here.

so smooth and polished, and why nothing else was found here. CERES THE PROVIDER Goddess of
so smooth and polished, and why nothing else was found here. CERES THE PROVIDER Goddess of
CERES THE PROVIDER Goddess of the Harvest and Civilization, Goddess of Grain, Lady of Merchants,
CERES THE PROVIDER
Goddess of the Harvest and Civilization,
Goddess of Grain, Lady of Merchants, Matron
of Prosperity, the Traveler’s Friend, Wearer of
the Golden Sleeves,
Patron of Trombei
Domains: Animal,
Community, Plant,
Protection, Travel
Subdomains: Defense,
Exploration, Family,
Growth, Home, Trade
Alignment: Good
Favored Weapon: Sickle,
scythe
Subdomains: Defense, Exploration, Family, Growth, Home, Trade Alignment: Good Favored Weapon: Sickle, scythe 5
Subdomains: Defense, Exploration, Family, Growth, Home, Trade Alignment: Good Favored Weapon: Sickle, scythe 5

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It was a surge of animated bones bound with thin pink blood. At the forefront was the screaming form of a robed skeleton, the prow on this animated bone ship, its eyes vacant but accusing as it closed on us. I assumed that this was the necromancer, now lashed to the aberrant beast. Boswin was ready, and stepped forward ahead of us, his snake-draped sickle raised, intoning the requisite words of Ceres to keep the undead at bay, to limn the ground with a circle beyond which the creature could not move. Boswin raised his symbol. And it melted in his hand like soft putty, such was the horror that now confronted us. Boswin looked at the wilted metal now flowing over his hand, and realized that the god of the fields had no power in the blasted land. And he turned to run, but the tide was already upon him. engulfing him with a torrent of shattered bones, tearing the flesh from his as he screamed. We did not wait to see his final moments – we were already fleeing deeper into the lair, towards the soft humming. We heard that humming again only when we were close, when Boswin’s screams finally became a wet, sobbing howl. It was a magical gate, about ten feet across, floating in the deepest room, a circular slice of otherness, a door to elsewhere. Glowing runes flamed along its perimeter. Though the gate to elsewhere, we could see a dark forest, and maybe stars above.

Jer hesitated and said something about the runes being a warning, in elvish. The grinding bones crashed behind us and Sanclava grabbed him by the mantle and dragged him through. I stopped for only a moment, looking around for something to claim as a memento, but the room was polished clean. I jumped through as well. And on the far side I found myself in a dark wood. Sanclava and Jer were already on the ground, dead, their bodies pierced by numerous ebon arrows. I turned around but the gateway was already gone, replaced with a dark

stone plinth. The woods seemed to be made of shadow itself, and in the shadows there was cruel, mocking laughter.

I bolted and they let me run, having their sport, tiring

me out. If I flagged, a few arrows shot by me. If I stumbled, they surrounded me, dark manikin shapes with glowing eyes, and they taunted me until I broke in fear and ran again.

I saw a light up ahead and I ran for it. There were

numerous arrows cutting the air around me now, not to spur me on but to stop me, and I redoubled my effort, breaking free of blackshadow undergrowth and stumbling onto a road, right in front of a large band of pilgrims. The lead pilgrim was an elf, though older than any I had seen. Her face was elongated, almost alien, and her ears long and tapered, and her flesh smooth and almost translucent. She held a lantern with a clear crystal at its heart, who through back the shadows around them. And I realized who this was and where I was. I had found a way into the shadow roads, and I was confronted with the last of the great elves, the Imperitrix Regia Moonthorn Kalthania-Reln vann Dornig. It was said she walked these otherworldly paths with her court. I managed a few gasping words, but she ignored me entirely, instead stepping forward and saying to the darkness. “This one is under my protection. Go find other toys to play with.” And the laughing darkness silenced confronted with her splendor. Soft, firm hands pulled me to her feet, and for first time I realized she was not alone. Of course, she traveled with her elfmarked court, their elven blood diluted by countless generations under the Imperitrix’s rule. She looked me in the face, and I managed a blurted, mangled thanks. “Do not thank me,” she said, “You will join my entourage, but you will earn your keep.” “Anything,” I managed. To my surprise, she smiled. “Be careful to what you agree to. We make for a tower in the Wasted West. It once belonged to a necromancer I knew. His scent is upon you. We go to hunt the creature you escaped. We hunt the bloodtide.” “And you,” and she smiled again, “Will be our bait.”

6
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WASTED WEST Once home to prosperous human kingdoms ruled by powerful mages, dotted with ivory
WASTED WEST Once home to prosperous human kingdoms ruled by powerful mages, dotted with ivory
WASTED WEST Once home to prosperous human kingdoms ruled by powerful mages, dotted with ivory
WASTED WEST
Once home to prosperous human kingdoms ruled by
powerful mages, dotted with ivory towers and flying cities
and fortresses, the western heartlands of Midgard fell to
warring amongst themselves. Raining acid on their enemies,
summoning mind-warping monstrosities, sacrificing whole
populations to bend ley lines and reality to their will, the
great mage-kings reduced green forests and lush farmland to
dry, blasted deserts, populated by twisted dust goblins and
reduced to scrounging for ancient magics and lost science.
The Wasted West is a howling wilderness with nothing
but goblin raiders and a few vastly powerful (and power
mad) mage kingdoms. One of these is the White Kingdom
of Bourgund, known for its sweet perfumes and foul
corruptions; and another the Mage Kingdom of Allain, home
to the powerful and victorious survivors of the Mage Wars.
Also to be found here is the Seat of Mavros, where the god
of war first trod the soil of Midgard and showed men how to
use fire and steel. Now it is a sprawling fortress shrine, where
pilgrims from the Seven Cities and beyond come to buy the
favors of the war god.
Ancient treasures, magic and technology can be found
here by brave adventurers, if they can survive the goblin
raiders, mutated monsters, and worse, that dwell here.
by brave adventurers, if they can survive the goblin raiders, mutated monsters, and worse, that dwell

Wasted West

Midgard Preview

Huginn, Ravenfolk the

Midgard Preview Huginn, Ravenfolk the cunning thieves and scoundrels. Their chieftain is Ukwak, a gray-feathered warrior
Midgard Preview Huginn, Ravenfolk the cunning thieves and scoundrels. Their chieftain is Ukwak, a gray-feathered warrior

cunning thieves and scoundrels. Their chieftain is Ukwak,

a gray-feathered warrior who rides with the Vidim boyars. Their most notorious spy, Viryeshka Krasny, has taken

a human name and she sometimes disguises herself as a human, so good is her mimicry.

NOTABLE HUGINN MERCENARY COMPANIES

The Raven’s Sons: A small company of about 50 humans, huginn, and centaurs, these soldiers have fought for the Despot of Reth-Saal, the Master of Demon Mountain, the Tsar of Vidim, and once for Lucan, the Prince of Morgau and Doresh. They are cynical and cruel, fiercely loyal within their fraternity and mocking of all others. Their commander is Festering Ferdzik, a male darakhul born in

The huginn are the children of Wotan, god of the runes, and are his chosen ones—birdlike, swift, and wise. Female huginn (pronounced HOO-gen) are slightly larger than males, but otherwise, their height and build corresponds with that of a human. Huginn coloration is almost universally black, from dull charcoal, to matte black, to glossy obsidian to a rarer bluish-black. Some huginn enjoy bleaching or dying their plumage, adding a personal distinctiveness. Their pointed beaks often reveal the widest differentiation, ranging from ivory to yellow to black and a rare black with a red or red-orange streak. This differentiation is mirrored on their claws and talons. Considered scoundrels and not entirely welcome everywhere, the huginn homeland

is

Wotan’s world tree in the North, or on a high cliff of Horus’ hidden temple in the South. They have settlements in Trollheim, Vidim, Domovogrod, Nuria Natal, and the Dragon Empire, but none of these are large. Their black feathers and long beaks are

in Beldestan to the East, or on a branch of

spotted on the road from place to place, trading information or helping to hatch plots. They are widely viewed as spies, informers, thieves, and troublemakers in Midgard, but when the Huginn swear an oath they abide by it. They avoid the West and the Seven Cities most of the time, and are most honored in Nuria Natal, where they serve temples of Horus as sworn guardians, assassins, and defenders. It is said that some of the Master of Demon Mountain’s most devious sorcerers are huginn, and they favor arcane, boreal, destined, maestro, shadow, and stormborn bloodlines. Some claim a racial sorcerous bloodline exists, too. The Tsar of Vidim employs huginn, depending on a particular group to help maintain his rule. They inhabit

a rookery in Vidim, not far from the tsar’s Scarlet Palace. They are worshipers of Wotan and his messengers, closely associated with the priesthood of the Rune God, and

Krakova. Company legend says he abandoned the Ghoul Empire for a life on the surface. The company contains skilled and dangerous officers, including Bogmila Cahliana (LE female human cleric 9 [Vardesain]), Silver Pyoran the company treasurer (N male huginn rogue 7), and Kostyan Syromakha (CN male human barbarian 4), a Khazzaki who leads the company’s charges. Most other mercenary companies consider the Raven’s Sons to be dangerous predators and plunderers who cannot be trusted. Rumors of cannibalism in its ranks are not uncommon.

The Bloodreavers: Of all the ashen sails and foreboding banners plaguing the Western Ocean, few evoke greater horror and fear than the Ravenskull pennant. Originally

hailing from the frozen north, these outcast huginn honor Wotan and revere Mordiggian in vicious rituals committed to terrify their victims and slake their

mad appetites. Never considered anything but insane, most of the Bloodreavers are uncontrollable in battle, whipped into fervor by songs of dark misdeeds and drunk on alchemical concoctions created by the few heru among them. Commanded by the imposing Gyark Cindermantle (barbarian 12/ rogue 3), the Bloodreavers erupt from the mists or blinding sun to visit cruel misery on any plying the waves. Their depredations have no rhyme nor reason– those lucky survivors described Bloodreavers as merciless, sometimes taking captives, and sometimes even ignoring plunder and sending treasure-laden ships to the sea bottom.

RACIAL TRAITS

Edgeborn: While all huginn are comfortable with swords, you are especially vicious. Pick one particular type of sword (longsword, shortsword, kukri, etc). You deal an extra 1 hp of damage when successfully attacking with that weapon. This damage is not multiplied by critical hits or other mechanics. It is only added to the total damage after all other modifiers.

Gifted Vocalist: Your nimble tongue and clever voice skills serve you well. You gain a +1 to Bluff

and Disguise checks made to deceive someone while in costume or while unseen, as well as when making Perform: Oratory checks. Disguise is always a class skill for you.

Well-Traveled: Your home rookery included a huginn fluent in a secret language. You may learn this language at character creation or after an appropriate return and visit there (as well as spending the appropriate skill points). You gain a +1 circumstance bonus to Diplomacy and Sense Motive checks made with speakers of this language.

Wotan-blessed: You seem to have an instinctive sense for the flow of the fates. Once per day, you may choose to add +1 to a roll after you know the outcome of the die roll. One of your eyes is a disconcerting milky white, giving you a -1 penalty to Diplomacy checks made to alter others’ attitudes.

your eyes is a disconcerting milky white, giving you a -1 penalty to Diplomacy checks made

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HUGINN SORCEROUS BLOODLINE

Some may claim descent from the servants of gods or dragons, or even boast their lineage is pure, but huginn sorcerers have very carefully crafted a line of powerful eldritch casters, epitomizing all that makes the huginn unique. The few scholars familiar with it believe the huginn must have learned or stolen this process from the kobolds— or else made a bargain with a Great Power, like Old Grandmother, for a similar gift.

This bloodline is available to huginn characters only.

Class Skill: Disguise

Bonus Spells: ventriloquism (3rd), misdirection (5th), clairaudience/clarvoyance (7th), shout (9th), false vision (11th), chain lightning (13th), project image (15th), moment of prescience (17th), wail of the banshee (19th).

Bonus Feats: Combat Casting, Deceitful, Defensive Combat Training, Eagle Eyes, Improved Initiative, Lightning Reflexes, Silent Spell

Bloodline Arcana: Whenever you cast a spell against a creature that is denied its Dexterity bonus to AC, increase that spell’s DC by +2.

Bloodline Powers: Like all huginn, you have a natural talent for trickery, information gathering, and swordplay. As your power increases, you discover ever more useful ways to blend your magic with these instinctive talents.

Arcane Bladework (Sp): At 1st level and once every four levels thereafter (5th, 9th, 13th, 17th), a huginn sorcerer may imbue his sword with a spell, as if it possessed the spell storing ability. The spell must be one level lower (or less) than the highest level he can cast, and no greater than 4th level. Imbuing the weapon consumes a daily use

of that level spell (O level spells still consume a 1st level spell slot), but the spell is expended only on a successful attack. The imbued weapon loses this property if used by someone else and the use of this power is expended.

If a natural 1 is rolled for the imbued weapon, it gains

the broken condition until repaired. An attack with an imbued weapon with the broken condition that rolls a 1 destroys the weapon.

Illusory Disguise (Sp): At 3rd level, a huginn sorcerer may use illusion spells to augment his disguises. By sacrificing

a daily use of an illusion spell, the huginn may add a

(1+Sacrificed Spell Level) bonus to the Disguise check made to conceal its nature. This benefit remains until the huginn actively removes the disguise, or until the next sunrise or sunset—whichever occurs first. This benefit to disguise does not radiate magic, nor can it be eliminated by less than a greater dispel magic.

Know the Weave of Fate (Sp): At 9th level, a huginn sorcerer may cast divination once per day at his caster level. The sorcerer gains an additional daily divination

every three levels thereafter (12th, 15th, 18th). Expending two daily uses of this power at one time allows the huginn to cast contact outer plane, and expending four daily uses allows the huginn to cast legend lore. These spells are not considered to be on the huginn’s spell list unless the sorcerer adds them by other means.

Stormcrow (Sp): At 15th level, the huginn sorcerer may cast wind walk once per day at his caster level. This spell is not considered to be on the huginn’s spell list unless the sorcerer adds it by other means.

Eldritch Weaponry (Sp): At 20th level, the huginn sorcerer may use his Arcane Bladework power to imbue his weapon with with a spell, as if it possessed the spell storing ability—however, the spell may be up to one level lower (or less) than the highest level he can cast.

HUGINN CHARACTERS

+2 Dexterity, +2 Wisdom, –2 Constitution: Huginn are fast and observant, but relatively fragile and delicate.

Huginn: Huginn are humanoids with the Huginn subtype.

Medium: Huginn are Medium creatures and receive no bonuses or penalties due to their size.

Normal Speed: Huginn have a base speed of 30 feet.

Senses: Huginn have low-light vision.

Sneaky: Huginn gain a +2 racial bonus on Perception and Stealth checks.

Gifted Linguist: Huginn gain a +4 racial bonus on Linguistics checks, and learn 2 languages each time they gain a rank in Linguistics rather than 1 language.

Swordtrained: Huginn are trained from birth in swordplay, and as a result are automatically proficient with swordlike weapons (including bastard swords, daggers, elven curve blades, falchions, greatswords, kukris, longswords, punching daggers, rapiers, scimitars, short swords, and two-bladed swords).

Natural Weapon: A huginn has a bite attack that deals 1d3 points of damage.

Languages: Huginn begin play speaking Common and Huginn’s Speech. Huginn with high Intelligence scores can choose any languages they want (except for secret languages, such as Druidic).

Huginn’s Speech: The language of the huginn is remarkably constant in the North among the huginn and in the South among the heru. Sometimes used as a thieves’ cant.

A New Awaits! World Enter the world of Midgard, a shared vision built over five

A New Awaits! World

Enter the world of Midgard, a shared vision built over five years by Kobold Press. It began with collaborative adventures and supplements describing the trade city of Zobeck (described in the Zobeck Gazetteer), and it soon expanded to detail territories outside the city. The setting now continues in a rich, fully detailed world in the new Midgard Campaign Setting. Let your adventurers begin their tales and build their legends in one of Midgard’s realms!

tales and build their legends in one of Midgard’s realms! THE CROSSROADS Here lies the heart

THE CROSSROADS

Here lies the heart of Midgard: The Free City of Zobeck, whose Revolt 80 years ago forged a thriving city ruled by freemen and gave birth to a trading hub famous throughout Midgard for its alchemy, new clockwork magics, steamworks and egalitarianism. Known for its magical clockwork masterpieces, its unique star and shadow magic users, its magnificent Arcane Collegium, and its status as a protectorate of Rava, the Clockwork Goddess, it is a bustling city of glorious achievements and dark, deadly alleyways. Just outside the city grows the vast, living Margreve forest, where unusual creatures roam, Baby Yaga sometimes treads, and the plotting shadow fey still hold sway. Black Prince Lucas, the vampire lord of the neighboring Principalities of Morgau and Doresh, claims the forest for himself, ever sending his

undead soldiers into the forest’s heart and threatening Zobeck’s many trade caravans. The 14 dwarven Ironcrag Cantons in the Ironcrag Mountains border the vampire realms, and the dwarves are stout enemies of the undead in both the Principalities and the underground Ghoul Imperium residing below. Also in the Crossroads region are the Magdar Kingdoms, a land of rolling grasslands, noble knights, fickle mercenaries, and massive war wagons, many of which are built in Zobeck. To the east of Zobeck is the Duchy of Perun’s Daughter, a realm renowned for the demigoddess who rules there: Vasilka Soulay, daughter of the god Perun. Just as important are its Amazonian archers, and its schools for the learned and the wise. This small but powerful duchy is a buffer between Zobeck and the slavers of Reth-Saal. The Crossroads is rife for urban adventure and intrigue, old-school dungeon delving, and the discovery of ancient secrets long buried…

delving, and the discovery of ancient secrets long buried… ROTHENIAN PLAINS Bold Centaurs, opportunistic Kariv gypsy

ROTHENIAN PLAINS

Bold Centaurs, opportunistic Kariv gypsy bands, fierce Kazzakh nomads, and even Baba Yaga’s dancing hut wander the Rothenian Plains, a land of endless grasslands, river barons and cities on horseback. The inhabitants of the Plains are brave and bold, but there is much abyssal evil to be fought here. From the nine cities of Niemheim, where infernal gnomes practice sacrificial rites to please the lords of the Eleven Hells, to the Wizardly Master of

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Demon Mountain, who’s motives are unknown, but who has a hand in most plots and tragedies in the plains, to the kingdom of the Ruby Despotate, ruled by the erratic but iron-fisted Veltrin the Glittering King, a follower of the cruel White Goddess. Veltrin’s servants scour the grasslands, capturing slaves to work the kingdom’s fields, mines, or galleys’ oars; and his strong navy controls much of the Ruby Sea with its infamous demon-prowed black ships. To the north, however, rests Domovogrod, the Silver Mountain Kingdom, a benevolent realm ruled by, Prince Araka and Princess Caisa, virtuous siblings who rule with wisdom, fairness, and loyalty. They are said to be direct descendants from a great silver dragon, who himself was a grandchild of the Great World Serpent herself. Domovogrod’s peaceful, hardworking halflings are known as the Winter Folk. They are known to be fierce and cunning warriors despite their size, and fight alongside humans and dwarves to repulse invasions of southern slavers and northern trolls, giants

and wolves. Gypsy magic, centaur steel, demonic servants, and the gratitude of dragons await adventurers braving the Rothenian Plains.

now uses his deific power s for her own purposes. To the south, you will find the Maritime Republic of Triolo with its magnificent navy and fierce privateers and its ally, the minotaur-ruled Serene Isle of Kyprion, eternally besieged by the navies of the burgeoning Dragon Empire of the Mharoti. Adventures in this region include discovering ancient, elven secrets, restoring the glories of the imperial past, questing for fame, fortune and power, descending into the darkness under ancient imperial ruins, settling ancient rivalries, protecting trade routes, and pursuing hidden knowledge.

THE NORTHLANDS

The Northlands of Midgard are a study in opposites. A land of deadly beauty, they have sights that can be seen nowhere else on Midgard; but if you find yourself outside for one midwinter’s night without fire, you are a frozen, icy

one midwinter’s night without fire, you are a frozen, icy THE SEVEN CITIES The clash of

THE SEVEN CITIES

The clash of endless war rings eternal in the lands of the Seven Cities, which both revel in, and depend upon, the economies of war, even setting aside a season for it and creating intricate rules and codes of siegecraft. Among the many warring fiefdoms we find the August Republic of Valera, which commands feared legions of humans and centaurs; the Grand Duchy of Illyria, Land of a Thousand Heroes, which boasts sky militias of hippogriff riders; the Green Duchy of Verrayne, where the druidical order of the Oaken Ring and the mighty heroes of the Black Band protect the East from invasions of goblins and the twisted monstrosities from the Wasted West. Here too, is the mighty Theocracy of Kammae Straboli, led by a powerful Oracle, who has chained and imprisoned Nethus, the former god of the sea, and

meal for wolves by morning. Like the lands they inhabit, the people here are a mosaic of contrasts: fierce and fearful, honorable but cruel, hospitable but vengeful, fateful and furious. The Northmen consider themselves fair and honorable, but indulge in interminable blood feuds and dark, hateful “grudge magic”. Their grim and bloody Vaettir warriors wage war and blood feud even beyond death, with the help of beautiful, immortal Valkyries. The Northmen were bold enough to steal the secrets of rune magic from the Gods and the Fates, but fear both to their bones, to the point of silly, paralyzing superstition. The Northlands are home to many exotic and strange kingdoms: Bjeornheim, the kingdom of Talking Bears, and Wolfheim, the grey kingdom of the Wolves Who Walk like Men. Also here are ancient dwarven halls, some inhabited by doughty dwarves, and some by the ghosts of their fallen ancestors. Here too, you will find the thunderstorm

fallen ancestors. Here too, you will find the thunderstorm fortresses of the cloud giants and the
fallen ancestors. Here too, you will find the thunderstorm fortresses of the cloud giants and the

fortresses of the cloud giants and the icy lair of the God of the North Wind, Boreas, who wishes to spread his frozen halls and living glaciers across the face of Midgard. Will you take up the axe and shield, and dare the fateful dangers and golden treasures of the Northlands?

DOMAINS OF THE PRINCES

The Domains of the Princes, the common name for the Principalities of the Grand Duchy of Dornig, have a deep and troubled history. Here petty elfmarked lords squabble over the scattered northern lands of the once great elven empire, abandoned hurriedly during the Elven Retreat. The elderly, elven Imperatrix of the Grand Duchy sits on a tenuous throne, while her great-great- great-grandchildren squabble over every castle, honor and knighthood in the Grand Duchy, and jockey for position at the foot of the Golden Sphinx throne, hoping to be next in line to replace the ancient Elf Queen (will she never die?). It is a place of elfmarked intrigue, played over decades, if not centuries, and a land of hidden elven secrets and treasures; some better left unfound. It is a kingdom of deep, primeval forests, and forests tainted by ancient magics and hidden diabolism. Here in the Grand Duchy you can also find the bustling but suborned Free City of Salzbach, with its many guilds and hidden aberrations. It is a place where an adventurer with a strong sword arm, a headful of spells, and a glib tongue can win him or herself a fine, petty barony, rife with trouble. Enter both the dark forests and the glittering elvish courts of Dornig at your own precarious discretion, however, for both are deadly dangerous.

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Midgard Preview THE DRAGON EMPIRE In the empire forged by the legendary dragon Mharot, Sultana Casmara
Midgard Preview THE DRAGON EMPIRE In the empire forged by the legendary dragon Mharot, Sultana Casmara

THE DRAGON EMPIRE

In the empire forged by the legendary dragon Mharot, Sultana Casmara seeks to expand the borders of her desert realm into the lush farmlands of the Seven Cities to the west and the ancient riverlands of Nuria Natal and the wealthy Cities of Gold and Salt to the south. A land ruled with a scaly fist by powerful dragon lords and their half-human descendants, they are a young and growing empire, who all

descendants, they are a young and growing empire, who all on their borders fear and pay
descendants, they are a young and growing empire, who all on their borders fear and pay

on their borders fear and pay tribute to, lest they fall to claw and fire. Conquest, trade and tribute have led to a Golden Age of prosperity in the young empire, and the markets of the empire’s cities are unrivalled. Masterwork jewelry, armor and weapons are commonplace; golden treasures are found in abundance here. Even mighty war oliphants and battle lizards are available for purchase, if you dare to ride them! The wealth of the Empire has led to an explosion of draconic art and architecture. The largest building in Midgard, the Temple of Veles, is found in Harkesh, the magnificent capital of the Empire. Harkesh surpasses any other capitol, with its mighty elemental temples, its schools of philosophy, magic and theosophy, as well as fractious schools of brawling elementalists, where dragonkin Wind Palm devotees vie with scaly Fiery Fist monks for bragging rights. Adventurers can find draconic intrigues, unique treasures, and dragon hoards, and fabulous glory and fame fighting against (or for) the dragonkin conquerors.

unique treasures, and dragon hoards, and fabulous glory and fame fighting against (or for) the dragonkin
unique treasures, and dragon hoards, and fabulous glory and fame fighting against (or for) the dragonkin
A WORLD OF ADVENTURE Journeys to the West Tales of the Old Margreve TM MA2
A WORLD OF ADVENTURE Journeys to the West Tales of the Old Margreve TM MA2

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for Pathfinder RPG, AGE System, and 4th Edition D&D Player’s Guide to the Dragon Empire Imperial

Player’s Guide to the Dragon Empire

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Midgard Preview

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Open Game License v 1.0a Copyright 2000, Wizards of the Coast, Inc. System Reference Document. Copyright 2000, Wizards of the Coast, Inc.; Authors Jonathan Tweet, Monte Cook, Skip Williams, based on material by E. Gary Gygax and Dave Arneson. Pathfinder RPG Core Rulebook. Copyright 2009, Paizo Publishing, LLC; Author: Jason Bulmahn, based on material by Jonathan Tweet, Monte Cook, and Skip Williams. Pathfinder Adventure Path #37: Souls for Smuggler’s Shiv. © 2010, Paizo Publishing, LLC; Author: James Jacobs. Advanced Bestiary, Copyright 2004, Green Ronin Publishing, LLC; Author Matthew

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