Fantasy is, of course, the realm of the fantastic. We infuse fantastical elements into our campaign settings in many different ways – characters, spells, artifacts, strange creatures, and so forth. Oddly, however, I find that these fantastical elements often play out across mundane landscapes: They are the hills, fields, and forests of our own world.

What if, as we step into our fantasy worlds, we give ourselves permission to break these naturalistic conventions and created truly wondrous environments?

(New Zealand doesn’t count.)

Let’s start by looking at mountains.

The scope of a fantastical landscape is, of course, only bound by the limits of our imagination, so this will in no way be (or attempt to be) an encyclopedic treatment of every awe-inspiring peak. Instead, let this handful serve as a spark for your own inspiration.

CRYOVOLCANOES

Cryovolcanoes exist in our universe, just not on Earth. In environments of extreme cold, frozen volatiles like water, ammonia, or methane take on properties similar to solid rock, magma, and lava. Eruptions spew cryolava into the air, creating flows of ice-volcanic melt. After the eruption, the cryolava slurry — now exposed to the frigid surface temperatures — rapidly cools and solidifies.

Given that the conditions required for a cryovolcano to exist are generally considered antithetical to life as we know it, how could an icy volcano exist?

Let me suggest a connection to the Plane of Ice deep within a mountain peak. As the paraelemental material slips through the crack between planes, it would create pressure within the mountain, eventually triggering destructive eruptions.

Such cryovolcanoes might even be deliberately created by winter gods, frost giants, or white dragons to transform a region into one more hospitable to their interests.

THE EVER-BURNING PEAK

The other end of the spectrum, fantasy fiction is often studded with volcanic realms where Evil Overlords make their homes. Often one or more of these volcanoes will be in a state of constant eruption for dramatic effect.

Such volcanoes actually are possible in our world, although their true properties tend to be overlooked. Take Kīlauea, for example, a volcano in the Hawaiian Islands that has been erupting frequently for hundreds of years, including, notably, a single eruption that lasted from 1983 until 2018. It has featured long-term lava lakes, rivers of fire, and beaches of black sand.

However, while Kīlauea, like other volcanoes with long-term eruptions, can be incredibly destructive, it isn’t perpetually generating the cataclysmic imagery that we often associate with volcanic eruptions. (The long-term eruption, by its very nature, is relieving geologic pressure more slowly over a longer period of time, rather than dramatically and all at once.)

But if we did imagine a volcano that was in a perpetual state of cataclysmic eruption? The Heart of Evil. The forge of a dwarven god. An ancient, broken portal leading to the Elemental Plane of Fire.

(All of the above?)

The interesting thing to note here is not necessarily the volcano itself (although it’s undoubtedly very cool). Rather it’s the vast desert of ash which will inevitably rise up around the volcano.

Even a short eruption can create shocking amounts of ash, creating black dunes miles away from the volcano. Now imagine that same process occurring endlessly — day after day, week after week, year after year. Taken to extremes, we could imagine an Ebon Desert that would rival the Sahara, slowly creeping further and further out into the surrounding lands; swallowing entire civilizations over the course of centuries.

QUARTZ PEAK

Glittering in starlight and perhaps blinding in daylight, these peaks formed entirely from titanic quartz crystals — clear or purple or white or pink — are the gemstones of the gods.

• Alchemists believed that quartz crystals had healing properties and would use them in medicinal elixirs. Quartz spas on the mountain might have (or be believed to have) healing properties.
• The Egyptians believed quartz could prevent aging. Perhaps those who live near the quartz peak enjoy long life. (Legends might even claim that elves are actually the descendants of humans who lived within the mountain for many years. Elves, of course, likely find such tales offensive… unless it’s true and they protect the ancient, sealed dungeons of the mountain as an ancestral shrine.)
• Pre-colonial American cultures believed that quartz could balance the emotions. If the shape of the mountains is sufficiently changed by the miners seeking to extract the veins of rose quartz, what effect might it have on the local populace?
• In Ancient Japan, quartz was used for fortunetelling. On certain nights of the year (or more rarely upon the occasion of the celestial conjunction), could vast visions be glimpsed dancing within the mountain, providing hints at what the future will bring?
• Quartz was believed to be the imperial gemstone, which is why, when the mountain fell from the sky, the Divine Palace of the Emperor was carved from its peak.

Or maybe it just looks really, really awesome.

CLOUD GIANT DOCK

Atop this mountain the cloud giants built a dock for their floating citadels. Over time some of these citadels became permanently tethered; eventually dedicated platforms were added to the growing cluster, kind of like the artificial islands that are slowly expanding Tokyo.

The result is a mountain which appears to have a vast disc atop it, creating the impression of an unbalanced hour glass. (Or, if you prefer, perhaps the cloud giant structures are more of a mushroom-like tumor bulging out from the mountain’s peak.)

This aerial plateau could be an active community for the cloud giants. But perhaps these events happened centuries or even aeons ago, leaving only stone husks forming a strange dungeon in the sky.

RAINBOW MOUNTAINS

For a change of a pace, here’s a type of terrain which does exist on Earth: Rainbow mountains, which can be notably be found in the Vinicunca of Peru, the Zhangye National Geopark in China, and to perhaps less dramatic effect in other locations around the globe.

Rainbow mountains are the result of striated mineral bands, often resulting from layers of sandstone being deposited with different mineral content. Their colors in reality tend to be less vivid than you will often see in color-corrected photographs (including the one above), but they are nonetheless quite beautiful. (And there’s no reason your fantasy mountains can’t be as vibrant as you want them to be.)

As I brainstormed for this article, I had the thought that rainbow mountains could be a really cool idea, and only discovered that they actually existed (more or less) when I started googling them. There are undoubtedly people reading this who are thinking, “Well, duh. Of course rainbow mountains exist.” I include them here as a good reminder that our own world is vast and contains more vistas than we’ll ever see.

TITAN BURIAL MOUNDS

Giants are large. But in the elder days there were unimaginable colossi who strode across the world; their footsteps, it is said, were the size of kingdoms. They buried their dead in cairns the size of entire mountains. They stand out partly because they are often built far from any mountain range, towering peaks where none seem to belong; but mostly because they are clearly artificial in construction. You can see the individual, hewn stones that are the size of small towns stacked one atop the next.

Not all of the titan graves are simple mounds. In some cases, perhaps towards the end of their strange civilization, they built in more elaborate shapes — as if carving art to be seen from the stars above. An intermediary period saw the construction of a number of crescent-shaped mounds.

It’s a common bit of legend that some of the titans were buried alive within their mounds, and when they struggle against their bonds or stir in their sleep, they cause earthquakes.

Titans also apparently held the distinctive, pale blue of icebloom blossoms as their color mourning and would plant vast fields of them atop their cairns. In many cases, these blossoms — well-adapted to the thin, icy air — still cover the upper reaches of these “mountains.”

DREAM PEAKS

Mountains are the greatest of barriers, which also makes them powerful liminal spaces. Dream peaks exist in both this world and the world of the Dreaming.

This can take several forms (e.g., mountains that you climb up in one world and then descend in another; alps where strange visions appear in mist-drenched clefts; and so forth), but perhaps the most dramatic are those mountains which clearly shimmer with unreality from a distance: During the day they are semi-translucent, like the ghosts of mountains haunting the edge of the world. At night, dream peaks shift fully into our world… sometimes carrying strange things with them.

Today we can watch tournaments staged by skilled stuntmen, but the heart of the sport is missing, the intense competition for personal glory: They can never recapture the real enthusiasm of the medieval original, the excitement of spectacle in a world where colour and pageantry were a rarity, the genuine danger of the fighting. The joust and its ideals belong to the glories of the past, to the pages of medieval manuscripts, and above all to the imagination, which alone can recreate these extraordinary festivals.

– Richard Barber, Tournaments

To understand the tournament, you must first understand the medieval world which gave it birth: It was a place of brown, gray, and limited colors. It was a life of eternal toil and struggle. Music beyond folk performance was a rare and precious entertainment. Rich colors and large musical performances were luxuries enjoyed by the elite few.

So it is of little surprise that tournaments – and the festivals which accompanied them – were the most popular of affairs: Events which were anticipated by every level of society, and which drew their audiences from miles away. In contrast to the reality around them, tournaments presented a self-contained world of excitement: A dangerous and skillful sport. Bright colors. Pomp and pageantry.

But tournaments were more than mere crowd-pleasers: They were central events in the lives of the aristocracy. The ideals of the tournament were the ideals of chivalry, and the skills of the tournament were the same skills demanded of the knighthood which stood at the center of the feudal order. Tournaments were political and social events of great importance – and, at times, their stakes were literally matters of life and death.

Considering that tournaments now stand in the public consciousness as one of the most vivid images of medieval life – immortalized in tales from King Arthur to Ivanhoe to A Knight’s Tale – it should come as no surprise that they can play a role in your D&D campaigns. As backdrops for adventure – or as an adventure in themselves – you can bring all the excitement of the tournament to your gaming table.

HISTORY OF THE TOURNAMENT

A number semi-legendary accounts exist of the first tournament: Some say that it was held in the fabled Coliseum before the Emperors of Rome. German chroniclers claimed that it was Henry the Fowler, ruler of the Holy Roman Empire from 918 to 936 AD, who was the first sponsor of the tournament. Still another tale leads us to King Arthur’s court. Perhaps the most believable account ascribes the first tournament to Geoffroi de Purelli (who did, in fact, author the earliest surviving set of tournament guidelines).

Most of these accounts are the result of medieval scholars attempting to fill in a history they did not know. The truth, however, is that pointing to the “first tournament” probably has more to do with drawing a line than finding an innovator.

In short, the tournament evolved out of a variety of primitive arms-training exercises and exhibitions. Perhaps the most important line that can be drawn between the older forms and what would later become known as a tournament was the development of the couched lance as a weapon of war: Mounted knights charging down upon their foes with this braced weapon could wreak havoc previously unimaginable to the medieval mind… but only if they could execute and recover from charges as a coordinated group. As a result, the couched lance led to the rise of new mounted formation tactics. These tactics, in turn, led to the need for group training. Group training led to group practices. And these practices would eventually become the tournament as we recognize it today.

The oldest occurrence of the word “tournament”, however, was not applied to the formal affair of jousting we associate with the term today. Instead, it was applied to the melee: A rough and tumble affair, scarcely removed from actual combat except that its goal was to capture instead of kill. (Captured prisoners would typically be subject to ransom, just as they would be during times of war.) Later, “safe areas” would be introduced as a place for recuperation and socialization during the competition.

In this form, as scarcely more than unregulated brawls, the tournament was often banned by church and king alike – in no small part due to the tendency for any tournament to result in injury and death. Despite these perpetual secular and religious bans, the tournaments continued to be extremely popular, and knights would often travel to other kingdoms in order to escape the bans and compete.

This explosive popularity can be explained, in part, by the symbiotic relationship which arose between the tournaments and the emerging genre of courtly romance fiction. Courtly romance fiction idealized the chivalric virtues, particularly as they were demonstrated at tournaments. As the romances met with success, the popularity of the tournaments grew. And the popularity of the tournaments, in turn, caused the popularity of the romances to grow.

The romances also resulted in the first “superstars” of the tournament world. Tourneyers such as William Marshal (a knight of low birth whose prowess at tournament led him to become Henry III’s Protector of England) were made famous by the tales of their deeds in tournament. At the same time, tourneys became a means by which an unlanded knight could gain wealth without the stigma of trade.

This combination of wealth and prestige soon led to tournaments being given their first degree of respectability: In 1194, England’s Richard I issued a decree which specified five authorized tournament sites in England. The decree also required knights to seek charters in order to start an compete in a tourney. In short, the decree (a) formalized tournaments, (b) imposed a set of reasonable regulations on procedures, and (c) earned the king a new source of income on the fees charged for the charters.

Although not imitated in form (which, coincidentally, meant that England’s tourneys assumed an independent existence from those on the continent at the same time that England’s kings were earning a special renown for their willingness to compete in tourney), the substance of the decree was quickly adopted elsewhere: The continent soon gained a similar measure of respectability and control as a result of the example set by England, and the expectations of the growing romantic and chivalric traditions.

This respectability and regulation, in turn, led to an abandonment of the bans which had dogged the tournament’s history to this point: Most kings had already embraced the sport, while the Church (somewhat pacified by the reduction in fatalities and maimings) knew better than to fight its popularity. By the end of the 13^th century, the tournament was a fully integrated part of European life – and its practitioners were not only famous, but powerful. Indeed, when Richard I’s heir – King John – died, he left a minor as king… and William Marshal as regent.

Over the next three centuries, the tournament enjoyed the height of its popularity and success. Its popularity drew larger and larger crowds, and what had once been an informal brawl grew into a formalized and regulated sport – the pastime of nobles and the entertainment of the masses.

Eventually, however, its own success signaled the tournament’s demise. The need to entertain spectators led to greater and greater attendant pageantry, elaborate settings, and heavily developed themes. In time, the tournament was reduced to little more than a staged event or equestrian ballet.

Already in decline, the tournament was finally finished off as the changing nature of warfare rendered it completely obsolete.

HOLDING A TOURNAMENT

Historically, tournaments were held either by nobles or (more rarely) by the governments of the free cities. This was a matter of simple practicality: These were the only people who could afford the great costs associated with the staging of a tournament. In a fantasy setting, of course, these limitations do not apply: Imagine the tournament which could be staged by a dragon with his horde. Or a celestial might sponsor a competition to find a true hero. A band of famous adventurers might establish a tournament to mark their retirement, funded by years of treasure hunting.

Tournaments were usually held during the afternoon, with the morning spent on ceremony on preparation. Exceptions, of course, were known: Nocturnal jousts, example, were magical affairs of torchlight and shadow. And most tournaments ran more than one day.

The size of a tournament could vary greatly, and the largest were surprisingly massive affairs. When the Black Prince celebrated the birth of his eldest child, for example, the record shows that 154 lords, 706 knights, and more than 18,000 horses participated in the accompanying tournament.

The arrangements for some of the larger tournaments could be a matter of years: Invitations were, literally, sent across the continent. Lists needed to be constructed. Proclamations containing the tournament’s rules needed to be issued and posted. Travel arrangements and lodgings needed to be arranged.

As Celebration: In many ways, a tournament was nothing more than a very large party. And, like a party, it was used as a means of celebration. Tournaments were frequently held to celebrate births, betrothals, marriages, funerals, birthdays, coronations, holidays, victories in war, executions, knightings, and any other occasion meriting note. Tournaments were also frequently held as a way of welcoming important guests. In particular, royal entries (when a king entered a town in his domain) were frequently marked with a tournament. In some cases, the tournament became a celebration of itself. For example, a tounament was often held in honor of the “first joust” of a nobleman’s son.

As Challenge: Tournaments, both formal and informal, naturally lent themselves as a means of challenge. Often these challenges were friendly affairs (although played up with mock drama), simply providing an excuse for the tournament to take place in the first place. In other cases, however, a challenge could be of deadly import. Tournaments were used to judge feuds. “Jousts of War”, using unbated weapons, were sometimes held between hostile countries. Indeed, even during certain sieges, the historical record shows that knights would ride out of the besieged castle, engage in jousts with the attacking forces, and then be allowed to return to the castle.

As Sport: Whether as general competition or martial practice, the tournament was – above all – a form of sport: With spectators, scoring, and prizes. Tournaments associated with festivals were almost always of this type.

Whatever the primary reason for holding a tournament may have been, there were also ancillary benefits to be gained: Nobles who sponsored tournaments gained favor with the crowd, and cities reaped the profits which those crowds brought in attendant trade.

TOURNAMENT EVENTS

Today the terms “tournament” and “joust” are used almost interchangeably, but the reality is that a tournament was actually made up of a wide variety of martial events. In fact, as noted above, the earliest tournaments were held before the sport of jousting was invented.

Melee: The melee was a mass combat. Knights either fought individually or were grouped into two or more teams, depending on the form of the tournament. (Whether or not forming alliances as part of an individual melee was acceptable also depended on the tournament’s form.) In some cases, knights fought with partners. The goal of the melee was to capture other knights, who would be ransomed.

In its earliest form, the melee was essentially a war game. It was fought with a variety of weapons, over a field that could extend for several miles. The boundaries of the field were seldom marked, instead being defined vaguely, usually by a reference to two or more towns – for example, “the tourney to be held between the towns of Teugan and Seinoe”. The only formal limits were the fenced-in areas which served as refuges in which knights could rest or rearm in safety.

In time, the damage and injury wrought by these early melees (crops trampled, roads torn up, knights accidentally killed, etc.), combined with the growing desire to have the proceedings more easily observed by a gathered crowd of spectators, began to curtail the expanse of the event: The field became of a more limited size, whose boundaries were usually marked clearly be a fence. This, in turn, led to a reduction in the number of participating knights, and this usually led to a further refinement in which only a single type of weapon would be used.

In later years, as the size of the field and the number of participants continued to shrink, the melee would evolve into individual competitions such as the duel and jousting.

Jousting: Jousting is the classical tournament event, and eventually became the centerpiece (and sole event) of most tournaments. In its most basic and earliest form, the joust simply involved two mounted knights with couched lances: The knights would charge towards each other in an attempt to knock their opponent off their horse. Each charge was known as a “pass”.

In this early form of the joust, the goal remained the capture of the opposing knight: A dismounted knight would typically draw his sword, and would seek to similarly dismount his opponent. The competition did not end until one of the knights had either yielded or been rendered unconscious.

Over time, refinements were added: The idea of capturing an opponent was quickly abandoned, and the goal became the dismounting itself. Typically a set number of passes would be run, and points scored for various accomplishments (see sidebar, below). This allowed the introduction of the tilt – a wooden bar which ran the length of the field and provided a guide for more successful passes. Eventually counter-barriers were added to either side of the tilt, which helped to prevent horses from veering away from the tilt.

Archery: Archery competitions were typically run by elimination. In the early rounds, the competitors would fire from a set distance, and the least accurate archers would be eliminated from the next round. In the later rounds, as the field narrowed, the distance would be increased. Typically, when the field had been reduced to two or three archers, the competition essentially became a duel, with the distances from the target slowly increasing, and the archers forced to match the accuracy of the other or face elimination.

Duel: Unlike the fencing duels into which it would evolve, tournament dueling was conducted in full armor with combat weaponry (although the swords were sometimes wooden). In some cases the goal was literal subdual – with one knight battering the other to unconsciousness or to yield. More typically, however, the duel was fought to a certain number of “hits”.

Endurance Test: A variety of endurance tests (swimming, climbing, running, etc.) were also common at tournaments before the joust became preeminent. These tests were always run as individual events.

Ponte: In the event of ponte the participants were armed with club and shield, and formed into companies. This was a city-based sport, not a knightly one, and the companies were frequently based on the various districts of the city holding the event. A general combat would then be held, with various means of elimination for the participants. Eventually, two additional forms also evolved: In the mazzascudo the club and shield evolved into a single kite-shaped, pointed shield (also known as a mazzascudo) which was used to both thrust and parry. The battaglia de’sassi added the lanciatori, who threw stones.

Fantasy worlds are places of mysterious wonder and rare treasures. They are filled with exotic creatures, awesome vistas, and mind-numbing terrors. They offer unspeakable beauty which can never be seen, songs that will never be heard, and wonders that will never be known. Their pervasive magic changes the very substance of mortal reality.

This article attempts to provide the foundations of such a world: The raw materials from which wonders can be built and treasures can be forged.

But these are not the common materials of history or the modern world. Items of marvelous grandeur may be forged from gold and silver, but such items lack that spark of the fundamentally fantastic which even a simple blade of mithril possesses.

This, then, is a catalog of things which have never been and will never be. Here there are gems which will never sparkle; trees which will never be felled; stones from quarries which will never be mined; metals which will never be forged.

They are the building blocks of a world which can live only in our imaginations.

FANTASY WOODS

Blackoak: This variety of oak grows in thick groves. At night its ashy gray bark and dark green leaves blot out starlight and moonlight alike, creating copses of stygian blackness. It is often logged for its strong, dark gray wood which, when treated with the proper stains, becomes a deep, lustrous black.

Bronzewood: Bronzewood is a dark, naturally golden wood. It can be finished to either gleam like pale gold or glow like burnished bronze.

Cinderheart: Cinderheart trees are often mistaken for beech trees, although their bark is much darker (usually a chocolate brown or a sepulchral charcoal in color). The wood of a cinderheart tree is the color of pale ash and is totally resistant to fire.

Darkwood: The sight of the rare darkwood tree is justly renowned for its breathtaking beauty. Its trunk, a vibrant reddish-brown, contrasts vividly with its thick, dark leaves. But the eye is drawn instantly to the large, translucent globes which hang from its boughs and glow softly as a constant reminder of the tree’s innately magical nature. Its wood, when cut, is naturally a deep, rich red that, in its finished form, can be treated to either a bright crimson or a dull, reddish-gray.

Although as hard as normal wood, darkwood is very light. Any wooden or mostly wooden item (such as a bow, an arrow, or a spear) made from darkwood is considered a masterwork item and weighs only half as much as a normal wooden item of that type. Items not normally made of wood or only partially of wood (such as a battleaxe or a mace) either cannot be made from darkwood or do not gain any special benefit from being made of darkwood. The armor check penalty of a darkwood shield is lessened by 2 compared to an ordinary shield of its type.

Dreadwood: The dreadwood tree is a stunted, twisted thing. Its barkless trunk is a lusterless black run through with red veins which seem to pulse with thick, turgid blood. About such a tree there is an aura of the unnatural profoundly disturbing to the mortal mind. Any who would approach a dreadwood tree must succeed at a Wisdom save (DC 15) or turn aside with loathing and fear. This DC is increased by +1 for every additional dreadwood tree in the area, up to a maximum DC of 30.

If the wood of the dreadwood can be harvested and treated with the proper alchemical substances, its red veins can be made to pulse even in death. Those near an object crafted from treated dreadwood suffer a –2 penalty to Will saves. Those handling an object of dreadwood, or entering a room built of it, suffer a –4 penalty to Will saves and must succeed at a Will save (DC 15) or become shaken for as long as they are near the dreadwood and for 1d6 rounds thereafter.

A dreadwood tree does not require sunlight in order to grow and many are found deep beneath the surface of the earth. In fact, the dreadwood’s manner of sustenance remains a mystery much studied by arcanists and druids alike.

Godwood: Godwood is a pale wood, almost pearlescent white in color. In the presence of divine magic godwood gives off a faint glow. As a result, despite its rarity and expense, godwood is often used for holy symbols. And although few churches can afford to panel entire walls with godwood, many will use finely-carved inlays of the wood to form exquisite mosaics or murals.

A piece of godwood will glow if any divine spell is cast or divine magic item brought within 10 feet x the spell level. If the godwood is removed from the vicinity of the divine effect, or if the divine effect comes to an end, the godwood will continue to glow for a number of rounds equal to 1d6 + the spell level of the divine effect. For example, if an instantaneous 5^th-level spell were to be cast anywhere within 50 feet of a piece of godwood, the godwood would glow for 1d6+5 rounds.

Goldleaf: The wood of the goldleaf is a pale ivory laced with veins that glitter like gold dust. Despite its natural beauty, goldleaf is seldom cut for its wood, for it is a rare tree and difficult to seed or cultivate. Instead, goldleaf trees are prized for their leaves, which – although not truly metallic – have the appearance of pure gold. These leaves can be harvested, usually maintaining their appearance for at least one or two years before slowly fading to a dull, dead brown.

Ironwood: Ironwood in its natural state is a dull, metallic gray, but it can be stained to resemble a richly-hued dark mahogany. It is most notable, however, because it possesses all the strength of its namesake. (When attempting to break any object crafted from ironwood, treat the object as if it were made from iron. Similarly, any armor or shield of ironwood should be treated as identical to its metallic equivalent. Ironwood does not hold an edge, however, and cannot be used to craft weapons which would not normally be made of wood. Ironwood burns like normal wood. It does not rust.)

Ironwood is prolific in its growth and is often found in vast swaths of deep forest. Ironwood trees have silvery-grey bark and dark green leaves. During the fall, their leaves turn a deep, rich purple. Although difficult to log, usually requiring axes of adamantine and great skill, there are many settlements which have become rich supplying ironwood to the outside world.         Because ironwood is such a difficult material to work with, it is almost never used for detailed carving (although wizards have, upon occasion, used fabricate spells and similar effects to craft ironwood carvings which have endured for centuries). Bowyers, however, often use ironwood for the construction of composite bows. It is also often used architecturally – particularly for doors – and its durability means that, even in ancient ruins, ironwood fixtures may still be found intact.

Wave Cypress: Wave cypress is a pale blue wood which grows beneath the surface of the ocean, usually in coastal or near-coastal waters. Wave cypress never rots, making it particularly useful in seaside ports and for smaller boats (it lacks the strength necessary for larger vessels). Although difficult for surface dwellers to harvest in great quantities, wave cypress is often used by mermen and other underwater races.

Note: The mechanics in this article are designed for 3E.

When I reviewed Icewind Dale: Rime of the Frostmaiden, I commented that Arveiaturace — the white wyrm with the dead body of her beloved wizard-rider strapped to her back — was one of the coolest things created for the book.

I wasn’t alone. You can find lots of people saying the same thing.

She’s still very cool.

But it turns out she wasn’t created for the book.

I realized my mistake recently when I was reading through Storm King’s Thunder and noticed a reference to Arveiaturace. (Which is a testament to how cool her presentation in Rime of the Frostmaiden is, because it made her stick in my mind so that future references would stick out like that.)

My curiosity piqued, I started digging deeper. And it turns out Arveiaturace is also mentioned in Tyranny of Dragons, where her mate Arauthator is trying to find a new rider for her in the hopes that it will convince her to take the rotting corpse off her back.

(True story.)

Around this time, Arauthator and Arveiaturace were both mentioned in R.A. Salvatore’s Rise of the King, but their origin actually traces back thorugh Dragons of Faerun (a 3^rd Edition supplement that I’m pretty sure is the source text from which they entered 5^th Edition) all the way to Dragon Magazine #230, where Ed Greenwood launched a column called Wyrms of the North. The first column was dedicated to Arauthator. The second column, in #231, was about Arveiaturace, featuring art by Storn Cook:

You can actually find the original article in Wizard’s online archives. (Thanks to Graham Ward for finding that link.)

If you go back and read it, there are some really interesting games of Telephone that you can trace through the later books where it seems fairly clear authors were aware of one of the older references, but didn’t realize (just like me at the beginning of this article!) that it was all based on a larger body of previous lore.

For example, Arveiaturace’s lair is located in Icepeak, where it is part of the lair of the wizard who was/is her rider.

Because Arveiaturace doesn’t actually appear in Tyranny of Dragons, this lair is not mentioned there. But it is mentioned that her mate, Arauthator, has a lair inside a hollowed out iceberg.

For Storm King’s Thunder, whoever wrote the section describing Icepeak (p. 92, where it appears as “Ice Peak”) knew the original source for Arveiaturace or, more likely, Dragons of Faerun and places her lair “correctly” in Icepeak.

But whoever wrote the section on the Sea of Moving Ice (p. 106) was probably sourcing strictly from Tyranny of Dragons and so writes, “Each dragon [Arauthator and Arveiaturace] makes it lair inside a hollowed-out iceberg.”

In Rime of the Frostmaiden, the author of Arveiaturace’s section (p. 105) once again is sourcing strictly from Tyranny of Dragons, is unaware of either reference in Storm King’s Thunder, and decides to place the “unknown” location of her lair atop the Reghed Glacier.

I love this kind of thing because it’s a simple exemplar of something that happens all the time in actual history texts describing the real world. For example, check out CGP Grey’s “The Race to Win Staten Island,” which brilliantly tears apart a historical legend which has perniciously crept its way into historical “fact.”

Another fun fact here is that, in her original appearance, Arveiaturace is a straight-up draconic whore:

Arauthator regards the white dragon Arveiaturace as an acceptable mate when he feels inclined. He employs a sending spell to call her to his lair for dalliance, giving her gems from his hoard after each mating but firmly escorting her out of his domain to rear any hatchlings that may result on her own.

(No shame intended, to be clear. Everyone’s a consenting Adult age category here.)

Where are their kids, by the way? That could be a really interesting thread to pull on in your Tyranny of Dragons, Storm King’s Thunder, or Rime of the Frostmaiden campaigns. Or, if your players have already run through those campaigns, to drop into a future storyline.

My favorite anecdote from Dragon #231, though, is that Laeral Silverhand of Waterdeep heard that Arveiaturace had besieged Candlekeep in response to someone writing a disparaging remark about Melathorand, her dead wizard-rider. So Laeral immediately commissioned The High History of the Mighty Mage Melathorand (he’s the dreamiest!) and hand-delivered a copy to Arveiaturace, cementing a long-term alliance with the tempestuous wyrm (which apparently lasts unto the present day).

It’s also worth noting that Melathorand’s corpse has been strapped to her back for over a hundred years now. I’m guessing it’s not in great shape.

Or perhaps Arveiaturace periodically seeks out preservation spells to maintain the corpse in good condition. Although if she’s aware of that need, it raises the question of why she has not resurrected the mage. Does the mage not wish to return to life? (Why not?) Or is his soul trapped somewhere? That could be a fascinating adventure seed!

Alternatively, perhaps Arveiaturace is utterly mad and someone (likely Arauthator?) is the one who periodically arranges for the corpse to be magically preserved or restored.

Long story short, if you want to add a lot of lore to your presentation of Arveiaturace, track down Dragon #231 for “Wyrms of the North: Arveiaturace, the White Wyrm” (which, again, you can currently read here). Pretty much everything else is just a cliff’s note version of Greenwood’s original work.

Go to Icewind Dale Index

Go to Part 1 – Click for PDF

Where the encumbrance by stone system really comes alive is the equipment sheet, which basically makes tracking encumbrance as easy as listing what you’re carrying.

Encumbrance Rule: You can write down your character’s encumbrance rule (based on their Strength score) in the spaces provided in the lower right corner.

Armor/Shield/Weapons: The assumption is that your currently equipped armor, shield, and weapons will be listed for reference on the front of your character sheet. You can jot down the current encumbrance value for these items in the spaces provided in the lower right hand corner of the sheet.

Coins/Gems: These are listed in the upper right and their encumbrance is calculated as shown. (To quench the “I have one coin and it apparently weighs a ton” complaints, you can allow PCs carrying 20 or fewer coins to list them as “loose change” in the miscellaneous equipment section.)

Heavy Items: This section is for listing anything that qualifies as a heavy item (i.e., weighs 1 or more stones all by itself).

Miscellaneous Items: This column is the heart of the sheet. Simply list everything you’re carrying in bundles of 20 or less. When you’re done, you can immediately see how many stones of miscellaneous equipment you’re carrying. Bam.

Add Misc. Equipment + Heavy Items + Coins/Gems + Armor/Shield/Weapons to determine your Total Encumbrance. In practice, this is all single digit arithmetic and adjusting your encumbrance on-the-fly during an adventure is practically automatic.

Moving equipment to your horse? Picked up a bunch of treasure? Throwing away your shield in order to run away from the goblin horde at your heels? It can all be done in seconds.

TIPS & TRICKS

Stored Items: This section of the sheet is for anything you own that isn’t currently being carried by your character.

Inventory of Gems: The specific value of gems are tracked separately to make calculating coin/gem encumbrance easier.

Containers: This area is used for listing containers in use (which don’t count against encumbrance). Empty containers should be listed as miscellaneous equipment. There are two easy methods for tracking which items are in which container:

1. List miscellaneous equipment slot numbers next to the container.
2. Put a symbol (star, circle, square, etc.) next to the container, then mark items in the container with the same symbol.

Tracking Supplies: The intention is that you list your supplies in the miscellaneous equipment section, but you can quickly check off supplies used on the trackers. At some point of convenience, you can go through your equipment list, adjust the totals, and then erase the supply checklists to start anew.

The Blank Space: After making the sheet I kept expecting something to crop up that I’d forgotten. (At which point I’d have this convenient blank space to slot it into.) After a several years, nobody has suggested anything. (Let me know if you think of something.)

DESIGN NOTES

The goal of the encumbrance by stone system is to simplify the encumbrance rules to the point where:

1. It is virtually effortless to track encumbrance and, therefore,
2. The rules can be used to meaningful effect on-the-fly during actual gameplay.

All the way back in 1974, this type of gameplay was discussed. In Volume 3: The Underworld & Wilderness Adventures, for example, we can read:

If the adventurers choose to flee, the monster will continue to pursue in a straight line as long as there is not more than 90 feet between the two. (…) Distance will open or close dependent upon the relative speeds of the two parties, men according to their encumbrance and monsters according to the speed given on the Monster Table in Volume II. In order to move faster characters may elect to discard items such as treasure, weapons, shields, etc. in order to lighten encumbrance.

But in actual practice the encumbrance rules were such a pain in the ass — and have remained such a pain in the ass — that either (a) they’re not used at all or (b) the amount of calculation required to adjust your encumbrance is sufficiently onerous that no one is going to try to do it in the middle of a chase scene.

When I started using the encumbrance by stone system, however, I almost immediately saw explicit encumbrance-based play crop up in actual play. And although “encumbrance-based play” may not sound all that exciting at first glance, being forced to throw away your favorite shield or abandon several weeks worth of rations on the pack horse actually creates really cool moments! (Going back for your shield, for example, can be a unique motivator. Running out of food because you had to leave the rations behind can throw your plans completely out of whack and force you to start improvising.)

My experience has been that, once you have a fully functional encumbrance system, you’ll wonder how you ever lived without it. Encumbrance certainly isn’t essential to every adventure, but it is particularly vital for expedition-based play: It is a budget you are spending to prepare for the expedition and it is also frequently the limit on the rewards you can bring back. The desire to manage and expand your encumbrance limits for an expedition (by using mounts, pack animals, and/or hirelings) will frequently unlock unique gameplay and storytelling opportunities.

Running expedition-based play without encumbrance is like running combat without keeping track of hit points. The encumbrance by stone just makes it easy to do what you need to do.

THINKING ABOUT STONES

Roughly speaking, for the purposes of estimating the stone weight of larger items, you can assume that a stone is equal to 15 lbs. in 5^th Edition.

Thinking about the “value” of a stone in such concrete terms, however, is to largely miss the point of the system: The stone is deliberately chosen as an obscure unit of measurement whose definition is intentionally vague. The stone is not defined as a specific weight; it exists in a nebulous range, but probably somewhere between 10 and 20 pounds most of the time.

This is based on historical fact: Although eventually set by British law at 14 pounds, the stone historically varied depending on the commodity being traded and the location in which it was being traded. (For example, the 1772 edition of the Encyclopedia Britannica states that a stone of beef was eight pounds in London, twelve pounds in Hertfordshire, and sixteen pounds in Scotland.) This makes it fairly ideal to provide a system which uses crude approximation in an effort to vastly simplify the bookkeeping involved with tracking encumbrance. And the slightly archaic nature of the terminology is also immersive for a fantasy world. (“I’m carrying about eight stone.”)

“But I’m British!”

The British still commonly use stones to measure body weight. And I’ve heard from some, but not all, that this makes it too difficult to slip into the medieval/Renaissance mindset where weights are relative and often imprecise.

If you find that to be the case for yourself, I recommend just swapping out the term “stone” for something else. You can go for something generic like “slots,” although you lose the immersive quality of the system (where both you and your character think of their load in similar terms). Another option would be a purely fictional term. For example, you might reframe the system using dwarven daliks.

SPECIAL THANKS

The design of this system was originally inspired by Delta’s D&D Hotspot and Lamentations of the Flame Princess.