Dinsu
The Peaks of Supine Gods
______
Seven Days, Crunching through snow
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Gold, silver, jewelry, and spices are piled high on racks behind a man wearing rough furs. Gesturing with a dismissive hand he boasts, “Mere baubles. I carry my glory in my veins!”
Rumors about Dinsu
______
“Trust me, I heard it from someone whose been there,” mutters a drunk at the wine sink.
1d10 |
|
1 |
“They burn any holy men they find at the stake. Or stone them. I forget which.” |
2 |
“All of them are beautiful, and have you ever seen one get sick? Witches, all of ‘em.” |
3 |
“They’re blood drinkers, and they string up outsiders to sup upon at their leisure.” |
4 |
“Blasphemy. An entire mountain full of unbelievers? May the Gods smite them all!” |
5 |
“My cousin married one. He says he’ll never come home.” |
6 |
“Absurd. They simply worship their Gods in secret.” |
7 |
“If you meet an animal who can speak, run! They’re possessed by an evil spirit.” |
8 |
“Don’t ever get into a fight; if you kill one their whole family will swear vengeance.” |
9 |
“Bah! Who cares? There’s less of them every year. They’ll die out in a few generations.” |
10 |
“Those howls you hear on the wind? Lost souls. Stay out of the mountains.” |
Chained-God Village
Hamlet
______
Snow-capped peaks soar from side to side, making the valley seem all the more secluded. Farmers in carefully tended and walled homesteads stop their labors to peer sullenly at visitors.
Banners of brightly-painted and patterned cloth mark the boundaries of a tribe’s territory. Outsiders are shadowed by scouts mounted upon stout looking ponies.
In one village, clothes, flags, and homes are decorated with intricate patterns suggesting the shape of a hawk. In the next village over, it is the shape of a deer. The one after that, a wolf. Every village is different. If you ask, they will tell you they owe the animal their well-being.
The people here show no fear of foreigners. Visiting nobles are treated with no more respect than any other foreigner. Even kings must wait their turn in Dinsu. There is no hurry to anything. The normal worries which bedevil a community aren’t present here. No one is ever on time.
Somewhere in the village is a building surrounded by layers of talismans and rings of protective wards. That’s where the God is held.
In this Village, the captured god takes the form of a:
1d6 |
|
1 |
Twenty meter long Eel. It is kept in a recessed pit, the space between it and the earth packed tightly with blessed salt and silver needles. Only its eyes ever move. |
2 |
Boar the size of a hut. It has been run through by dozens of spears, axes, and swords, pinning it to the ground with the weight. The stench of blood is overwhelming. |
3 |
Man-sized eagle with golden feathers, who’s eyes contain the infinite expanse of the sky. It’s wings and legs have been broken by hammer blows and it is lashed to a tree. |
4 |
Cart-sized trout. Bright, coppery scales glint in the town square, dozens of hooks piercing it’s tail to keep it suspended from a huge iron gibbet. The mouth gasps for breath. |
5 |
Pack of wild goats, all of whom have identical black coats and horn shapes. They are ritually slaughtered and eaten each dusk, but reappear in their prison-paddock at dawn. |
6 |
Lion, with yellow fur which blazes with the fury of the noonday sun. It is kept chained under a waterfall, the billowing steam blanketing the village in a thin fog, day or night. |
Through their enslavement of a divinity, the people of this village gain for themselves:
1d6 |
|
1 |
Lifelong health. No matter how old they are, they stay at the peak of health. They stop visibly aging at 30, but still die of old age around 150 years old. |
2 |
Insight. It is impossible to lie to these people! They gain advantage to any roll pertaining to seeing through deception, illusion, or obfuscation, whether literal or figurative. |
3 |
Ferocity in war. When in what could be considered their “homeland,” they gain advantage on all combat rolls. |
4 |
Magical talent. All of them have the capacity to learn the Art, and while not all of them may be great, they still know of magic and its ways. |
5 |
Unimaginable wealth. The fish are ever plentiful. Livestock never catch fever and die. The mines burst with gems and gold. No on ever goes hungry or lacks for comforts. |
6 |
Safety and obscurity. No matter what measures are taken, their homes can never be discovered or directly threatened by their enemies. |
In recompense for this blasphemy, they must suffer through:
1d6 |
|
1 |
Unnatural growths, such as horns, vestigial limbs or eyes where there shouldn’t be any eyes. The severity and form they take is different for everyone. |
2 |
Sterility. People from the village cannot become pregnant or make another pregnant unless they mate with an outsider. |
3 |
A persistent delusion shared by the entire community. This could take the form of a non-existent menace, paranoia towards outsiders, or unnerving myths of the world around them. |
4 |
An inability to dance, make music, produce art, or poetry. Anything beyond merely stating and recording facts soon becomes unintelligible nonsense. |
5 |
Terrible taboos surrounding an everyday activity such as hunting, courting, or funerary rites. If these taboos are broken by the community, the blessing is rescinded for a year. |
6 |
Ferocious rages and conspicuous adherence to vendettas. The curse results in a violent and hair-trigger people who are racked by internal divisions. |
There are ways to increase the powers that the blood of gods in oneself, namely by consuming more of it. Blood Witches know of more precise methods. No matter what power they managed to wring from their captive divinity, no spirit or god will ever regard these folk as anything other than scum.
If the god ever escapes, it will not rest until every single person of the village is dead.
Humble Hunters of Gods
______
United by their sins, the settled people of Dinsu are close-knit and conspiratorial. They whisper behind your back, and shoot one another glances when you commit a faux pas. No one corrects you.
If they catch view of holy symbols or idols, they may hiss, or even exhort you to toss it away. They might even go missing the next time you go to sleep.
Sparse quarters are traditionally set aside for visitors. Trade is a matter of survival for the people who live here but the politeness is always grudging.
Today, the village is abustle with:
2d6 |
|
2 |
The execution of a captive. The ritual wounds have already been inflicted. The crowd’s cheers and jeers nearly drown out the victim’s screams as they’re fed to the God. |
3 |
The local god’s near escape! It found a way to snap one of it’s bonds and killed a few guards assigned to it before being wrestled back into place. Everyone is worried. |
4 |
A massive festival to honor a villager’s passing. Intoxication and excess abound. The grieving family is nowhere to be found. |
5 |
A group of traders from the lowlands are hawking their wares and taking on cargoes. The members of the village do their best to hide their obvious excitement. |
6 |
A local war leader is holding a rally. They’re loudly issuing boasts, challenges and promises of plunder. They intend to raid a lowland settlement or a group of nomads. |
7 |
Favorable signs have been uncovered by the local scouts, and a group of hunters is readying to depart to run down the wild game. |
8 |
A parody of past rituals of observance to the Gods, the community is being exalted over the old ways in a public ceremony. |
9 |
A marriage uniting two feuding families is being performed in the public square. The tone is tense but hopeful. |
10 |
A public argument between several merchants and the head of a family. The guards of both groups are eyeing one another down warily. |
11 |
Conflict between two families. A long-simmering slight has boiled over into open violence. Members of the opposing factions are brawling in the street while others stare and laugh. |
12 |
A band of captured nomads being led through the middle of the settlement. They are to be taken before the assembled households to be judged for their many crimes. |
On a set of doubles, a small group of nomads is present, and are doing carousing and exploring of their own.
The villager you’re speaking to is dressed in:
1d10 |
|
1 |
Threadbare rags. They have a hungry look. An outcast who has so far refused the blessing. |
2 |
A woolen apron decorated with the tribe’s animal, worn over a dark-furred robe. A farmer. |
3 |
Fur-lined trousers, boots, and a coat. They clutch a staff and wear a broad hat. A herdsman. |
4 |
Sheepskins and a fur coat. Weapons and trophies hang off a thick belt. A marauder. |
5 |
A brightly dyed gown with a contrasting colored collar. Jewelry and a peaked cap. A noble. |
6 |
Rough clothes, leather boots, and a furred hat. Chisels, saws and axes. A carpenter. |
7 |
Armor, with an array of scars and protective sigils painted upon their skin. A god-guard. |
8 |
Well-worn robes. A bevy of scrolls in a knapsack and ink-stained fingers. A scribe. |
9 |
Thick leather pants, along with a matching shirt and gloves. They reek of piss. A tanner. |
10 |
Fine robes embroidered with the tribe’s animal, splattered with old bloodstains. A witch. |
They happen to be preoccupied with:
1d6 |
|
1 |
Buttering up an outsider, either for the purpose of trade, or recruitment into the tribe. |
2 |
Ferreting out whatever information they can from anyone new to the area. |
3 |
Cajoling a visitor, or a junior villager to spy on or raid another tribe. |
4 |
Hocking their wares or skills. If you’re not interested they’ll move on. |
5 |
Intravillage politics. They are actively plotting against another villager or family member. |
6 |
Relaxing on a day off. Drinking, talking, and doing drugs. Things are merry. |
Outsiders are tolerated but never embraced until they ask if they can gain the blessing of the god. Then the initiations and trials can begin. In this village they bring others into the tribe through:
1d6 |
|
1 |
Mind-bending puzzles and riddles which eventually reveal the tribe’s deicidal beliefs. |
2 |
A grueling and tortuous series of public hazing rituals intent to cause pain and embarrassment. |
3 |
A secret brew of herbs and fungus that open the mind to the realities of the animal gods. They are also poisonous. |
4 |
Driven into the wilderness until exhaustion and starvation brings upon a vision. |
5 |
A trial of oratory in which the initiative is questioned and must answer under the effects of a draught that guarantees truth. |
6 |
A test of skill chosen by the mob by way of shouted votes. |
Jayanta, Psychic Mapmaker
Asks where you come from. Where you’re going. Bids you to describe the shape of the land of your birth to him. He’ll dream of it for the next three nights, and then know it as well as you do.
Quick hands. Quicker eyes. He can sketch things as you describe them to him. His store is a dilapidated shack on the edge of the settlement full of ink-pots and half-finished maps. He’ll sell you them, but you have to give him enough to make a replacement for what you’re taking.
Gaurav, Caravan Guide
She waits at the base of a mountain pass, sauntering up to the campfires of foreign travelers. She knows a thousand ghoulish stories, each more lurid than the last. After she tells a few, she makes her pitch, “Let me take you up. It’ll be a lot safer that way.”
Most of the trips are uneventful, and except for the sense of being watched, safe. Some end in screams, blood, and half-chewed corpses. The untamed God she’s in league with rewards her well and they’ve both prospered.
Dinakar, God Hunter
“See how the birds fly in patterns, and the plants have prayers written on their leaves? They’re nearby.” Every scrap of skin has been scarred or tattooed with either a protective sign or sliced open and had a charm inserted underneath.
He looks over his shoulder constantly, and he never relaxes unless his back is to a wall. He’s not allowed to pay for anything in town. His father died before 30. He likely will as well.
Apeksha, Coin Mage
She dresses so gaudily that when the light catches her jewelry you fear you might go blind. She clinks audibly whenever she takes a step. Even her teeth are made of gold.
The secret to her wealth is simple: she knows a song her mother taught her which steals gold. Its never from someone she knows. It disappears from royal vaults, coin purses, or right before astonished merchants eyes.
Kuldeep, Marauder
He seems to know the resting place of every stone, the curve of every trail, and the habits of every animal in the mountains. He never speaks, but always smiles, as if sharing in some private joke.
Kuldeep traded his voice away to a witch in order to awaken his blood even further, granting him the ability to sense sentient minds. If he concentrates, he can hear your thoughts.
Red Droplets on Snow
______
Here blood cannot keep its secrets. One who been taught the ways of Dinsu can recite your lineage by tasting a drop from your finger, or sniff over a scene violence to know the face of the perpetrator and if the victim still lives.
With the blood of gods, they can work miracles. But not without a price.
The
Witch who laced your blood with that of a God’s in a ritual told
you that you’ve been given a Boon…
1d8 |
|
1 |
Your exhaled breath causes magic to fail. If you respire in a sorcerer’s face, they cannot weave their spells until you are forced away. Puff out some air at an illusion, and it is revealed as a mere glamour. |
2 |
Through the recitation of a set of holy syllables, you may make vital fluids gush uncontrollably out of every orifice of any living creature within your sight once per day. |
3 |
The blood coursing through your veins is highly combustible once it has left your body. Its flames can never harm you. You can ignite it by snapping your fingers twice in a row. |
4 |
Blood given willingly heals you. Pouring it on your wounds knits them shut. Drinking it cures diseases or poisons which ail you. |
5 |
Fresh wounds on your body empower you with frightful strength, so long as the blood isn’t cleaned off and the lacerations haven’t been staunched. |
6 |
You can sense the heartbeat of any living creature within 100 paces of you. By way of practice you know the intent and disposition of a living being by focusing on the sound of their blood pumping. |
7 |
Speaking your own name aloud and splashing your blood upon an enemy, any wounds you suffer appear upon them as well for the next two days. You can do this once per week. |
8 |
By feeding your blood to a living creature, you can use its senses as your own no matter how far away you are from them, and even sense their thoughts. This effect lasts as long as your blood remains within their system. |
...and a Curse...
1d8 |
|
1 |
Mosquitoes, ticks, lice, fleas, and other blood-feeding parasites have an insatiable thirst for your fluids and seek you out. |
2 |
You develop features or habits associated with the minor god whose blood you consumed. These are always clearly inhuman in nature. |
3 |
An overwhelming stench of rust hangs upon you like a pall. It drives predatory animals mad with hunger. |
4 |
Sometimes you sleepwalk, and do silly things like trying to weaken the village god's bindings without getting caught. |
5 |
People do not believe your words unless they are provided with incontrovertible evidence of their veracity. |
6 |
Trickles of blood seep from your mouth, nose, and ears constantly. You are anemic unless you eat accordingly, and it is comically easy to track you. |
7 |
Somewhere on your body is a wound which will never heal. It is serious enough that infection is always a concern and it must be tended to daily. |
8 |
Odd bulges and serpent-like shapes dance across the surface of your skin where your veins are present. You cannot wear tight clothing comfortably. |
The Scribe’s Tale
______
The young man is dressed in a heavy green robe decorated with bands of cloth of gold. He is setting up a small display stand. As he does so he cries out for attention several times to the crowd of merchants before he begins. His tone is stilted. He’s said this a half-dozen times this season alone,
“By a magnanimous edict by the
elders of this place, it has been decreed that all outsiders must
assent to hear the story of our land’s birth!
The gods
of this land are not so far away, as compared to others. Perhaps it
is because we are so high up in the mountains? Regardless, they dwell
among us. And they were tyrants.
One day, a young couple
from the Village of the Deer were running through a meadow at night
during spring. They had lost track of time and had tarried in the
sacred valley after dark.
The god of that place, a
monstrously large creature with the body a reptile, the fur of a yak,
and the head of a deer, demanded the young woman give her lover over
to their charge in exchange for her own life. In her grief and anger,
she refused and struck the god across the face with a thrown rock.
Enraged,
the divine beast devoured the girl, and spread her bloody remains
across the valley. The young man flew through the night to his
village. On his arrival, he told his family, and that of the woman’s,
what had happened to her. Soon, the whole village was in a wroth.
The village elders, wanting to know the full story, went
to the meadow the next day. They saw the bloody remains, and soon
found the god. Asking it why it had done this, the divine beast
responded that it owed them no answers, and devoured them as well.
The
Village of the Deer forgot their oaths that night. Every man, woman,
and child descended on the sacred valley where the god lived. Scores
died, but they were able to bind the divine beast to the ground by
its own antlers.
They took the blessings that it once
hoarded for themselves. They took the valley. Both would be theirs
forevermore.
You are dismissed.”