The Table of Circumstances (for Dogs)

this image contains WARRIOR CATS SPOILERS

When you roll up a Doggerlands PC, you must roll on the Table of Circumstances.

1. You are betrothed.
2. You have a child.
3. You are disinherited.
4. You are inbred. 

 

Betrothal means a looming arranged marriage. Brides are bought and sold by their parents, sometimes at very young ages, sometimes even before conception; scions of lesser houses are very often born into bridedebt. (Thus, the overwhelming demand for fertility drugs, and the tyrannical parenting practices that safeguard against defaults.)

Betrothal can carry significant stigma-

• To a second- or third-cousin: you're upright and traditional. Dogs prefer to marry within their capital-H Houses.
• To a member of another House: you're transgressive and modern. These sorts of affairs were forbidden until recently by laws prohibiting miscegenation.
• To a twin: you're very important, mysterious, possibly a wizard. Self-marriages are rituals reserved for those with very high CHA, but some find the practice confusing or strange. (It's a bit like being an elf; people will think differently of you.)
• To a foreigner: you're deficient in some way, or else your family is in a lot of debt. Either way, they were pretty desperate to marry you off.
• To a fairy or spirit: you make people veeeeeery nervous. Nobody wants to touch a spirit's property. (Betrothals are not recorded in the laws of men, but in the ancient language of Contracts, to which even fairies are beholden.)

The betrothed rarely meet until their wedding day, except in dreams, which they share from the day of betrothal.

(An arranged marriage date can demarcate a hard stop to a game, which is always useful.)

A child is a valuable resource (and Dogs are not shy about terming it such). Betrothal sweetens any deal, entrenches any alliance. It is (sometimes literally) a get-out-of-jail-free card in Doggish society.

Better kids make better deals, so make sure yours is as close to the breed standard as possible: for Norburys, fat and tattooed; for Devinsens, tall and skeletally pale. (This is approximated by your child's natural CHA. Nothing a little make-up can't fix.)

Most parents aspire to join a kennel club: a high society organization dedicated to maximizing the genetic potential of their children.

(And it is known that betrothing one who is healthy to one who is sick can invigorate the latter. Young and old, rich and poor: this ancient folk magic is well known to the Dogs.)

Traditionally, legal inheritance passes by simulgeniture, to the child who most closely resembles the parent in all miens.

The proper legal method (when a will and testament cannot be found) is to directly compare their ability scores. Dogs have 8 ability scores, while foreigners only have 6. (Bastards sometimes have 7; especially inbred children can be born with as many as 10.)

The Houses typically eschew these rickety legalisms in favor of a written will and testament, which is to be politicized and weaponized against one's children as one sees fit. Being disinherited is a very big deal; a life of (relative) squalor awaits the failscion. (Many families have a parasite uncle or aunt, to whom much seething and scheming is attributed.)

 

Inbred PCs start with at least one mutation (I like this list). Gawking is impolite, but you're also at fault for not covering it up. The higher you climb in society, the more inbred people tend to be.

Dogs consider inbreeding a "strong, albeit eccentric, parenting decision"; they'll judge you for it, but won't argue with results.

THE GUEST STARS

For GLÅUGUST 2026, I asked 128 gloggers to write one room each for a community dungeon: no prompt, no theme, no rules. Of those initial 128, a whopping 82!!!!!! submitted rooms.

Thank you all so much for your submissions, and for your patience.

click here ^^^^^^^ for the dungeon

(the links may not jump you around unless you download the pdf) 

 

09/01/26 - Fixes to names and attributions, placeholder room references filled in. (if I messed up your name, let me know and I'll get it fixed asap)

No Stupid Names

bandwagon

First of all, throw out the common knowledge.

• False cognates are good. "Herpys" is an excellent elf name. Glancing at my list, I have "Odd" and "Snorri" on it; you best BELIEVE those bastards will be strange and sleepy respectively.
• Alphabet soup is good; the less vowels in a name, the better. I like how leaving out vowels forces you to fill in the gaps in mental pronunciation. (This is a setting-dependent theme.)
• Unintended cross-linguistic double entendres are good; use Google translate to seed more of them. The Spear Mountain, why, that must be Ben Gae, the gayest mountain on the continent.

"Don't do this, don't do that" Just DO!!!!!

Common wisdom says reusing an NPC is better than inventing a new one, since old NPCs come with baggage. Baggage is more fun than a blank! there's lots of straps and hooks to latch on to, lots of context to consider. Unspoken context matters because without it the only thing players have to riff on is what the gm tells them.

Using familiar words as names has the same effect: it loads up the character with preexisting connotations and expectations, it colors in the gaps. The alternative to a name that means something (like Herpys) is a name that means nothing. (This is also why it's good to use famous names, like Rhianna, and Jesus.)

[i mentioned themes earlier. What I'm really talking about is patterns. A name like Hdrf means nothing; two characters named Hdrf and Mdrf, are clearly brothers.]

All this to say, I don't believe in dumb mistakes, just dumb decisions, which we should all be making at industrial scale and speed.

What I Actually Do

Here's the Cath name list and the Doggerlands name list. (i do my own stunts)

They're mostly real historical names with some fake ass bullshit mixed in. Cath features a Nwnvyr, demonymic of the ambiguously pronounced realm of Nwn. The dogs sometimes get names like Nefermoor and MacHotep because they have a little egyptian in the mix. Mostly real, a little silly. 

For the 6 manors characters, I moved much faster. Bridget fixes the bridge. Cardwin gambles. Summers Daley is a gloomy freak. Sargasso-- you get the idea. (It's easier when you tell yourself they're just placeholders.) Once the easy ones were done, I filled in the rest based on the first letter of their closest relative's name.

I roll once on a list if I don't have a pun locked and loaded; twice and combine if I want the name to feel twice as important. (Celd names tend to agglutinate.)

I also make up arbitrary naming rules for certain character types to create the illusion of consistency.

• If I need a demon name, I say the name without closing my lips and transcribe whatever sound comes out. (because they have big tusks)
• My wizards are named after colors.
• My royals are named after their virtues, like Harmoneigh and Awesome Force.

Having a fairy rule and a demon rule and a princess rule leads naturally into having a rule for this and that kingdom or culture. Layering those rules on top of my existing lists helps keep things connected.

Otherwise I just do what Ro does so go read that

rudimentary insights memetically phrased

• Curate a list of real names/words. Use it aggressively.
• Make up arbitrary rules and follow them.
• Use names that make you smile, even if they're stupid.

Cargo Cult, Cottonmouth, Cath Celdaenn

i had this banger metaphor about strangler figs and domain game rules but there's nowhere to put it rly

Cath Celdaenn is my pet setting about *gestures vaguely*. Qal Ashen is Loch's setting about *gestures provocatively*.

The two games in these two settings use the same rules. This is because I was directly inspired by Loch's A2A, and scaffolded my game over theirs in the frantic energy of the early-2020s domain game cambrian explosion.

The cathgame has trundled along brilliantly on its stolen tires. This is just for GLÅUGUST, and a potential hypothetical future cathgame.

Languages

Loch loves archaeology and linguistics so much they wanna marry em. Consequently, one choice you can make in A2A chargen is which languages you speak, with plenty of exciting and esoteric options. The dead languages are relevant because the world is post-apocalyptic AND necromancy is everywhere (lots of dead civilizations who speak dead languages).

In Cath, the City is the world, and the monoculture looms large: who's a real Celd, who's a pretender?

• Citizens speak the Citizen language.
• Translation spells work by making the creature(s) you are speaking to a temporary citizen.
• Citizens can't become fluent in other languages. (unless they're urbanists)
• You can learn short phrases in any language with a native speaker's help. (in downtime, see below)
• You can learn an additional language by incorporating it into your traditions/cultural identity.

One thing the language list does that I do like is it introduces the constituent cultures of the City. (and if important worldbuilding isn't in the chargen rules, people won't read it) I'll find a way to slip allat back in, probably.

Clan Creation

Clans have four stats.

• Cows is how many cows you have. (4d20? i dont want to do the math rn)
• Cows determine how much surplus downtime you have. You spend downtime on training or research. You also need downtime to support your specialized professions (see below).
• Warriors is how many warriors you have. This is an exact count. (d3-1)
• Getting more warriors requires setting aside downtime for training. Getting good warriors requires finding good teachers.
• Sages is how many sages you have. This is also an exact count. (d3-1)
• Sages are experts who maintain clan traditions. They can maintain as many traditions as they have HD, except for skalds, who can maintain twice as many.
• Braids, Skalds, and Saintmakers are almost always sages. 
• Freaks is how many antisocial freaks you have, like wizards and swordwives. (d3-1)
• You can comfortably support as many freaks as you have warriors and sages combined. Excess freaks hurt your reputation with other clans.

You can roll +warriors/sages/freaks when their expertise would be relevant. Cattle raids, for example, are +warriors rolls.

hopefully the [budget downtime for experts] idea is less bookkeeping than it looks. I like the idea of setting out on an adventure thinking "we should bring back a sage and a freak"

Marriage is very high-stakes because it can mean trading skilled people from one clan to another.

Traditions

The cathgame's biggest success, in my eyes, is how traditions work. You spend your domain action to enforce a cultural norm or memory, and gain XP each Spring based on how many people buy in to your vision of Celdic culture. One player took an immram into fairyland to rediscover a lost God; another pieced together a whole gender system from ancient gnomish texts.

In A2A, all players serve the God of Greed, and so all paths to power are paved in gold and blood. (thus, xp-for-gold)

xp-for-traditions has some issues who cares??? I'm king monkey, I make all the rules

• Your clan can support as many class templates as you have traditions.
• Each tradition is understood to empower a specific clan member as long as it is maintained.
• If the tradition is in crisis, the clan member is fey. (0HP = death)
• If the tradition is lost, the clan member may choose to abandon the template OR the clan. (They become a rootless NPC.)
• If the clan member is lost, the traditions that empowered them can be passed onto another clan member.

I've joked about how in Cath 10 coins = 1c = 1 cow. The cows still matter here, I think: you need a herd to support sages to maintain traditions, you need warriors to guard them. It's just a bit indirect.

(There is a full Gloranthoid hack somewhere here where class templates just aren't a thing, but I choose to be weird about it.)

also some of the traditions are just straight up magic.

• Pilgrim Orthodoxy - Strict monogamy. When two people are married, they pool their HP. Thus a husband can feel when his wife has been cut by a sword, and vice versa.
• Servant Tongue - Your clan can speak Palace, the language of the diminutive Royals.

Character Creation

This comes after clan creation, of course.

Your character has three attributes. (3d6, take the middle result, subtract 3) (or just do whatever, fuck)

1. Fortitude - The number of lazy cows you can drag behind you simultaneously.
2. Reflex - The number of weapons you’re proficient in.
3. Will - The length of the longest omen you received in a dream.

Choose your folk and class.

Speaking of folk-

Folk

People keep getting tripped up on how to play skeletons, quite sensibly, because I don't define in the rules what it means to be undead.

• Skeletons don't need to eat or drink, but if they don't get any calcium in their diet their bones become brittle. (Milk, cheese, quicklime, etc.)
• They can't smell, taste, or speak. They don't feel hot or cold. They can't drown.
• They aren't citizens and communicate via Skullsign, which requires two free hands and a working jaw. (Skullsign has an audible component in the form of chattering teeth.)
• If you're missing a hand, you can only "speak" in one-syllable words.
• If you're missing your jaw, you can't inflect or use punctuation.
• If you have your jaw but no hands, you can only speak in punctuation.

Carmines and Royals aren't citizens and can't speak the language, so playing as one makes for a very different kind of game. Crabs are citizens.

Holiers have a host of finicky mechanics that are difficult to adjudicate. I personally love difficult to adjudicate things, but maybe it would be better if i just

jesperish

HOLIER

Start with:
 At least one direct worshiper
+1 Will per template

A - Domain, Clout
B - 
Domain Expansion, +1 Aspect
C - 
Domain Improvement, +1 Aspect
D - Shrine Maiden, +1 Aspect

A: Domain
Somewhere in the City is a thing or place you represent. (A river, a tree, an elevator.) 

While you are in good health, so is your domain, and vice versa. If you are injured, your domain is damaged. (A flood, a bad harvest, a mechanical breakdown.) You cannot regain HP until it is restored.

You are not a citizen, but you are City, and can therefore speak Citizen.

A: Clout
You have a number of clout dice (CD) equal to the number of people who directly worship you. (Individual shamans and/or civil engineers do this for their entire community.)

You can roll your CD to…

• …reroll a first impression or reaction. (2CD)
• …recruit a [dice]HD shaman or engineer to help with a task. (-1 if it's out of the way; -1 if it's dangerous)
• …deal [sum] damage to your worshipers.

CD that roll 4, 5, or 6 are expended until the start of the next season.

At the beginning of each season, roll all your CD. For each doubles result, one of your worshipers is in need of a miracle. For each triples result, one of your worshipers is in dire need of a miracle.

B: Domain Expansion
You can project your domain onto another location or object. Roll CD: [highest] properties of your domain are projected. (For example, a stick can be made strong and sharp if a jagged peak is projected onto it.)

You can exercise fine control over your domain to produce minor spell-like effects. (For example, sending a message in a bottle up or down a river.)

Aspects
Gods have many faces and names, which comprise their many aspects.

Roll a new set of stats and skills. Then, you may roll d6.

1. They speak another language, but not Citizen.
2. They have +d6 to hit, and are bloodthirsty.
3. They are beloved by (d6) cats/centipedes/fish/ghosts/knights/smth else.
4. They are the size of a sparrow.
5. They are a monster. (fr! open the monster manual!)
6. They are a psychopomp.

They are one of your aspects. They may differ in name, appearance, and even personality, but they are all you.

You can swap between your aspects while you sleep, or with a sufficiently dramatic costume change.

Temples and statues built in your honor belong to one of your aspects and not the others. You cannot enter a temple belonging to a different aspect. Additionally, you can be forced into another aspect if someone shouts their name three times at you.

C: Domain Improvement
You can add a numinous property to your domain by enshrining a magic item within. For example, enshrining a flaming sword in the roots of an ancient tree may cause the tree to bleed burning resin.

(Negotiate the effect with your gm. As a guideline, the result should roughly answer the question, what if everyone had access to this magic item?)

D: Shrine Maiden
By rituals revealed to you in dreams of deep earth, you bind another to your domain. This takes a season of mutual fasting in complete silence and complete darkness.

You may turn them into a shrine maiden, an ageless guardian unable to leave your domain. If you die or are injured, one of your shrine maidens dies or is injured instead.

Alternatively, you may turn them into one of your aspects.

The Game Ends
when the omens come true, in ?? years. (← ask the PC with the highest Will)

Postscript
I sometimes hesitate to post Cath because I fear disappointing my lovely players. I will remind myself: This setting is a living document. Pinning it down and enshrining it will kill it. I shouldn't be afraid of playing with my toys.

slitherbop

 

Man-Shaped Things

arboreal fellows (aren't we all)

lemure
HD 1
a restless shadow

Caught like curses on jungle treks. Hides in your shadow and eats your dreams. (You cannot read omens, spoors, or written warnings.) Cutting off its tail breaks the curse. Travel in tight-knit nuclear families.

 

grandfather
HD 2
a lone hitchhiker

Lopes along roads at night, seeming a wrinkled old man. Traveling with him improves your reaction rolls with everyone. Slowly replaces your own grandfather in your memories; after a month of this, your real grandfather unravels, wherever he is.

fetch-life
HD 3
an unpolished reflection

Hirsute body doubles, unwise and curious. They learn procedures quickly and language slowly. Often exploited and abandoned, spawning cargo cult enclaves in the aftermath. Their stone bodies are extremely heavy; they won't cross deep water.

howler
HD 4
named for its contributions to the City-by-night

Encountered in brachiating platoons of exactly twelve. Persistence hunt travelers by depriving them of rest and luring wandering monsters. They can do both from miles away. Preferential sapiovores.

mandrill
HD 5
once, a man laid with a tiger

Dagger-fanged half-men, dressed in dogskins, iron lanterns held aloft. In torchlight, they are suave and gentlemanly, their tiger souls turned by fire. If the light goes out, they lose all sense of restraint and kill everyone. Of all the man-shaped things, they are the only ones who make and use gunpowder.

gorilla fighter
HD 6
a knight apostasia

Kitschy tombac soldiers alloyed against the world. Abandoned their oaths for the strength of abomination. Sweat metal and recite poetry. Their hide turns every weapon except the gun. After sufficient chivalric effort, they'll move into an old fort and fill it with an army of man-shaped things.

 

You'll rarely encounter man-shaped things in daylight. One day, they will bring down the sun.

The JAR

This is not a heartbreaker.

I default to g20 for pickup games, but I keep missing certain house rules. This will be my default going forward (living document, obvs). The jar is there to contain the scope. (easy to share, read, remember)

The only "new" idea is the partial offloading of encounter and morale rolls to the players. Ideally this makes my life easier by reminding everyone that the rules exist and are fun to interact with. (fortune should probably give bonus xp)

I can already see bits I need to fix- I'll try to wait until I play with them before tinkering more

bad worldbuilding advice // fractal worldbuilding

All worldbuilding advice falls into three categories.

• procedure
• slushpile
• categories

The good ones do one category very well. The rest can't pick a lane.

 

Procedures are ordered lists of tasks, ideal for when one has too many ideas to write down.

A good procedure is specific and arbitrary. No room for questions or hesitation or reasoning, nothing to distract from the numbered list. Compromise is the enemy: you get a drill sergeant dragging you thru the muck towards the finish line.

And waiting for you at the finish line is a satisfying result. Maps, random tables, stats, pretty pictures, published blog posts: these are the dopaminergic rewards for doing the work. This is essential because I deserve a little treat for doign a good job

(Morgan "Horse girl" Dungeonfruit is very good at these.)

Slushpiles are the opposite of procedures. These are for when one has lots of drive but no ideas.

A good slushpile is all vibes. It's shapes and colors, sounds and smells. It's dragon sex on the moon. It's poetry and rabbit holes and dyks. It's fun to say (makes you smile when you mouth the words). It's not wasting your fucking time.

A great slushpile is just a leeeeeeeeetle bit shit. The friction between you and them is what rubs the ideas out of their head and into yours.

(Semi "Demonetized Again" urge is very good at these.)

 

Categories are complete bunk. Tier lists, personality tests, tvtropes: astrology at best, hobby phrenology at worst.

These exist only to waste your time.

 

* * *

The worst worldbuilding advice is "Think."

Think about tectonic plates. Think about rain shadow. Think about where food and water come from. Think about how religion informs culture informs religion. Think about real world history. Think about art that inspires you. Think about biology and physics. Think about purpose built architecture.

Thinking is detailing is connecting is fixing is editing. Thinking is not worldbuilding. You cannot think a blank page full.

weed's fractal gallery

Here's a fractal worldbuilding procedure.

Start with 5/7 words. (generate randomly, then replace the lame ones)

1. talkative
2. plastic
3. linear
4. microscopic 
5. thinking (/neg)

Assign a wizard to each.

1. blabboth, the rambling skeleton
2. griatina, grandcaster crustacean
3. EVIL SWORD LESBIAN
4. rb, mnscl
5. james L. magrotype, first of the braincels

Zoom in on the most interesting one. Griatina. What's she like?

1. She talks to crabs.
2. She has a false eye.
3. She has a toy sword that can actually kill you. All of her tools are toys that work too well: things so fake they loop back around to being superreal.
4. Her children are half-crabs because she a freak. They are called orcs.
5. Her evil plan is to become immortal and huge, like, planet-sized.

Okay, what about EVIL SWORD LESBIAN?

1. She talks to swords.
2. She has a false corpus callosum. Exposure to the sword dimension gets her cut in half all the time, but she's learned to just zwoop the halves back together. Her right and left halves are rarely on the same page.
3. She has a lot of swords (duh, jesus, listen to yourself)
4. Her children are pushmipulyus: things she cut in half and put back together wrong.
5. Her evil plan is to get back together with her ex.

What about the map? I want some kind of, uh, island chain. What's up on those?

1. Singing rocks.
2. Artificial transplant cities trying to blend in.
3. Bamboo forests.
4. Germ countries, germ politics. Giant colored algae mats disputing borders with salmonella clouds.
5. Poor sad troglodyte people trying not to get uplifted by annoying missionary scientists

I like the germs! Tell me about the germs!

1. They get together at an evil disease forum every month when the moon is full.
2. One of them is a prion disease that turns you into a raggedy ann doll.
3. One of them is rust
4. They live very short lives. Talking to a disease is very annoying to the disease, because you talk so slow.
5. They were, like the troglodytes, forcibly uplifted by those damn missionaries, no doubt related to JLM, that scoundrel.

Zoom in further. A dungeon! A 5-room dungeon! :^)

1. Puzzle: Tracking down and isolating the germ in charge at one of these evil disease forums. Pretend to be cholera?
2. Trick: It's a masquerade ball, complicating the above.
3. Conflict: Chronic Wasting Disease is here. Gotta kill her to save the elk population. Unfortunately she has two swords and knows krav maga.
4. Entrance: Giant nose obelisk full of diseased bats. Crawl up the nostril and you'll shrink to germ size.
5. Reward: Germs present that are useful to contract/recruit/befriend, like autism BAD JOKE DELETE LATER

Stop. Zoom out. What's going on one level above the wizards?

1. Songs on the wind, the symphonia cirrostrata.
2. Morphic continents being pushed around by rogue giants, still building the world (how meta!)
3. Giant orthocerid tower to heaven (100 floor mmojrpg hogwash with cambrian angels and shit)
4. Sooooo many tiny islands, like sooooooo many. Someone broke all the continents apart (which is why the germs are so specialized, and the animals too, everything's filling weird ecological niches)
5. Of course, there's the petty, shitty wizards and their thoughts (/neg) 
6. And a secret sixth thing: the bottom of the ocean, where the elves do.

Get it? Zoom in, zoom out. Fill the pattern, break the pattern. Chase interest, reuse, recycle. Write now, think later.

eat your fackin vegetablrs

D6x6 Catamarans

for Glaugust 2026

A catamaran is like a boat with a thigh gap, and is recognizable from a distance as fairy bullshit.

The flag on the catamaran depicts...

1. ...many long-necked animals twisted together in a senseless knot. (braids save or vomit)
2. ...the logos of many generous sponsors.
3. ...an absence.
4. ...an agreeable androgyne with ai slop hands. 
5. ...many offensive political and military icons smushed together into a hyperproblematic, lightly sentient symbolic gestalt.
6. ...a beast playing an instrument. 

The catamaran is skippered by...

1. ...2d6 fairy slavers. Will trade people for memories and ephemera.
2. ...1d6 fairy poets. Will trade forgotten histories (and XP) for people. (Traded persons return years later with murky memories and a level in muse.)
3. ...1 fairy godmother. Will turn you into a fucking pumpkin for breathing on her.
4. ...3d20 skeleton pirates. Really crammed in there.
5. ...1d3 tigers. Invisible until you get too close.
6. ...2 snakes. Doing their best.

While aboard the catamaran...

1. ...one cannot be heard unless they speak in verse.
2. ...one's head rolls off their shoulders harmlessly. 
3. ...one falls asleep. (Fairies are dangerously competent sleepwalkers.)
4. ...right left east west north south up down here there before after inside and out are all swapped (but not reversed) (does that make sense?)
5. ...all metal apologizes, emits a high pitched shriek, glows green, and explodes into acid.
6. ...one is, technically, a ghost.

The right hull of the catamaran contains...

1. ...a cache of tommyguns.
2. ...the body of a saint.
3. ...plutonium sherds.
4. ...spare fairy parts (2 sets).
5. ...a terrarium full of tiny people. Requires feeding twice daily.
6. ...bees!

The left hull of the catamaran contains... 

1. ...a dragon heartstring harp.
2. ...a sentient demon sword floating in blood.
3. ...a bunch of tangled cables with no discernible purpose. 
4. ...cooked rice.
5. ...a portal to the mirror realm.
6. ...hibernating gnomes.

The gap between the twin hulls of the catamaran can...

1. ...sing of its own accord, but does so backwards.
2. ...chew and swallow smaller vessels.
3. ...open a portal to fairyland.
4. ...alter the color and buoyancy of the surrounding water.
5. ...create riptides. 
6. ...shoot psychic beams 40 yards. 

 

The skipper of a catamaran is often at the mercy of the boat's disposition, forced to visit islands or greet other vessels until the catamaran's curiosity is satisfied. Adult catamarans have 12HD and speak howl, the language of ghosts, cats, and storms. They are not particularly loyal, but appreciate a thorough deck scrub (or hull, depending on temperament).

A catamaran can only be encountered on a river, in the sea, in the sky, or in a dream. A wise man keeps their feet firmly planted on dry land.

The Ashes to Ashes Cube (a 360 card Play report)

I met a glogger from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose :dmthink:,
And :screiming: lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed:
And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Locheil Locheil, Best To Ever Do It:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"

→ Here ← is a 360 card Magic: the Gathering cube based on the setting of Qal Ashen and the associated domain game, Ashes to Ashes.

The primer explains the project from a mechanical angle. In this post, I'd like to gush about the game that inspired it, as well as tell a few stories from the past three years of gaming.

Flowers without names

Today I saw a flower of which I did not know the name. It had a low bushy frame, upon which were arranged five clusters of flowers, and each cluster thereof was a cone of which, from tip to hilt, the hue shifted from pink to orange, like little sunset spears. And it smelled nice.

I kept an eye out after that. I saw thick-veined viscera leaves, globes of baby blue asterisks, pale porcelain street lamps, leggy pom-poms with drooping heads—cheer up cheerleader! the bees love you for you!

My partner can put names to flowers, which is a kind of magic. The same is true for anyone familiar with birds and bugs (the kinds that aren’t ants or beetles or flies: the potpourri) and rocks and cetera. In my eyes, they have a claim to these subjects I do not.

The word for great subject knowledge is mastery. Is this mint or milkweed? The master knows. The flower belongs to its master, who keeps its name in a box. Master, master! Open the box! (Thankfully, the kind master made the front of glass.)

I am the kind of person who uses words without knowing their meanings, only their contexts. I have to describe the flower, and you have to find the flower. Without mastery, we cannot hold it: neither shape nor color will fix fast. (Master, the pins! the paraformaldehyde!)

 

Celds have few names for animals. There are cows, there are dogs, and there are beasts.

(The King of the Celds once named every animal, but these were lost.)

laura bifano

many images to follow

Outdex

Huh? What?
It's like an index, but reversed. Instead of helping you navigate my blog, I'm helping myself navigate everyone else's. Each hex links to a Spiceomancy-certified all time club banger post. Go ahead, click one!

Oh, like an Appendix N?
Kind of. The reason I gathered all these links in one place is to help myself keep track of my favorites. I'm sure you'll enjoy these posts (to reiterate: they're all very good), but that's circumstantial to me enjoying them.

Neat! So why a hex map?
pretty :)

Dogbox: 6 Manors

Spoilers for Dogbox, again.

No dungeons this time, just a lot of Guys. It's still incomplete, but a bit o posting helps me build up motivation for the hard parts, だから許して下さいねえ?

Ruined City Flunkies

8 microclasses for characters that tried to multiclass and failed. Relationships to the original cath classes are left as an exercise to the reader.

 

Unraveled
You can transform into blue smoke for a round, with the following effects:

• You are intangible. You drop everything in your hands, with the exception of spectral weapons.
• You can fly, at the speed of a rolling fog. A strong gust will send you flying.
• You lose one year of memories, oldest first.

 

Cinder
Your burns mark you as one who plays with fire; you are barred from holy places.

Choose any number greater than 0 to represent the severity of your burns. You lose that much maximum HP and take that much less damage from fire, lightning, acid, poison, and cold.

Hollow
You have made a hole somewhere in your body — lined with clay and stone — in the pursuit of sorcerous power. Instead, something took up residence within. (d8)

1. Ghost. Appears as a cold spot. Eats heat from your fingertips.
2. Dray. Easily bribed with nuts. An agile-albeit-disloyal messenger.
3. Asp. Venomous. Catlike indifference.
4. Crab. Gluttonous. Eats ghosts as easily as carrion.
5. Bees. Industrious. Large enough hives can be considered intelligent.
6. Fairy. Cherubic sparrow wings. Childish carnivore. #mytwig
7. Salamander. Tempestuous. Multichromatic. Fond of cigarettes.
8. Stone cylinder. Slots in almost perfectly. While it's in, you remember how to read a dead language.

Prisoner
For your crimes, you were trapped in a confining metal helm. You are immune to damage above the neck. Also, you don't need to eat or drink, which is good because you can't take off the helmet, ever.

 

Cursed / Scapegrace
You have been cursed by a saint. (d8)

1. Hounded. Add 1d6 wild dogs to an entry on every encounter table.
2. Gold and sunlight are both blindingly bright to your eyes.
3. Taboo. Other players choose six words. Whenever you say one of them, take 1 damage. Then, if you’ve said all of them, explode (3d6! damage).
4. Replace one of your hands with a thumbless mantid claw (d6).
5. A storm follows you, waiting to pounce. The next time you see the open sky, lightning will strike you (6d6).
6. Structures you build collapse in a day.
7. You weigh as much as a feather. Strong winds or blows send you flying.
8. When frightened, save versus your whole skeleton popping out. It takes ten minutes to put your skin back on. (Skeletons can’t talk.)

You also start with a +1 magic tool. (d8)

1. Cowbell
2. Billhook
3. Kagura suzu
4. Yew rod
5. Blue feathered dart
6. Snakeskin veil
7. Brass chime
8. Red-soled sandal

Rambler / Idiot
You can get lost at will. Spend an exploration turn to transport yourself and all traveling companions somewhere you've never been before at random, ignoring plausibility. For example, you can overland travel three hexes in the time it would take to travel one, or stumble into a room that was locked from the inside.

You can't do this again until you produce a map of the new area to the gm's satisfaction.

 

Deserter
You deal +2 damage. Additionally, you take 2 damage whenever you attack. If this reduces you to 0 HP, you are instantly beheaded.

 

Bard
You know two songs. (Brief rituals that make others think of you as a potential friend. You can use them in response to bad reaction rolls, before a fight breaks out. Some require instrumentation to perform.)

1. Singer describes filling a wound with alcohol; alluding to an apocalyptic flood. Resonates with former warriors and wizards.
2. Singer laments the howling stone songs of their forebears, which are no longer well known. Resonates with the elderly and with trolls.
3. Singer describes a departed kinsman's misadventures as a rancorous spirit warrior. Resonates with reckless teenagers and frogs.
4. Singer describes no-strings-attached sex with a series of vagabonds. Resonates with big ol' sluts.
5. Singer describes a kinsman growing bloody horns. Resonates with those who are ashamed of a brother or sister.
6. Singer compares themselves to the Elysian fields of Qua We; lamenting a lover lost. Resonates with the abandoned and nostalgic.
7. Singer compares a great passion to being lit on fire. People love chanting the BURN, BURN, BURN part. Resonates with artists and solar atavists.
8. Singer describes falling in love with a beautiful cowherd. Singer is obviously very superficial. Resonates with young, foolish men.

it's all about the fucking cat

!!!content warning!!!
!!!scary!!! 

Full spoilers for Obsession (2026) you have been WARNED now let me get this off my chest

In Favor Of Repetition

It bears repeating.

In Cath Celdaenn, there are two kinds of dungeons: forts and temples. The former belongs to a warlord (or headless army; or upstart band of celds) and throbs with activity; the latter belongs to a saint and is still as permafrost. In the former, fight, steal, destroy, sing; in the latter, move silently and be perfectly polite.

In Wheel of Horses, there are two kinds of dungeons: vaults and ships. The former contain ancient and valuable things, long buried, suddenly unsealed. The latter fall from the sky and break into thousands of pieces. Both are swarmed by scavengers, who are in turn devoured by devils.

In HELLUVA STARSTUCK RAILBOSS, there are two kinds of dungeons: lobbies and hives (basically a demon's house). The former are corporate liminalia with giant monsters walking around for no good reason; you go here to conduct business, like to get a passport or smth. The latter are severely inhabited by demons and full of kitschy crap; you go here to steal said kitschy crap.

In Girls Like Us, there are two kinds of dungeons: clubs and trespassing.

In the time zones, there are exactly 24 dungeons.

In the Doggerlands, there is one dungeon: the basement (which bleeds into the attic and the closet).

The 5e Conversion Nobody Asked For

Below is a (conspicuously incomplete) 5e conversion of my frankenstein glog class, in a sort of inverted deusian mode.

I'm not sure what I'll use it for; sometimes my projects serve no one, not even myself.

 

[LAYOUT CREATED WITH HOMEBREWERY] Design discussion below. 

 

The first and most obvious hurdle when converting to 5e is the class length. GLOG classes have, for the most part, four abilities. The 5e barbarian has 16, 20 if you count the subclasses separately. Filling 20 levels takes a lot of text! (you can see I'm still four abilities short of a full set) 

I knew I wanted the frankenstein to be some kind of tank, so I used the barbarian as a base. Setting aside subclasses, the 5e martials mostly follow this pattern:

• important mechanic at level 1 and 2 (rage! reckless attack!)
• level 3 subclass ability
• level 5 extra attack
• level <11 third fun mechanic (brutal critical!)
• some late game upgrades to previous abilities 
• bunch o cruft to smooth out the combat math

sidebar: I rarely write "balanced" classes, but I know it's important to 5e play culture to pursue balanced combat, so I did a bit of research on the current homebrew scene and their expectations. I'm asking if I should take my shoes off before I enter your home. This is arguably my most culturally sensitive post.

The takeaway is that you don't really need 20 good ideas to write a 5e class: you need three, and a willingness to crib a bunch of sauceless ones from the rest of the players handbook.

Placing abilities in the level 5-15 range was especially tricky. Martials start needing more tools to counter save-or-suck effects around level 9, but abilities like mad science and speak with head can't come too late or they won't see play. When writing glog I like to introduce all the central mechanics by template B, and just start fucking around for C and D; but if i come up with a funny idea for a D template, I find myself trying to fit it into B so it's more likely to see play. A similar concept applies in this format

Here I strayed from the path: I didn't fully embrace the relentless rages and slippery minds of dnd design, in part because without playtesting I didn't have a good sense of what holes needed filling (you don't end up at an ability like diamond soul without rigorous combat-sim-ing)

jason chan

The subclasses were really easy to write: as deus has observed, 5e subclasses and glog classes have the same "four fun ideas" structure. I suspect this is why fifthdragon's 5e subclass conversions work so seamlessly: the core class chassis is the really wonky part of 5e design, needing to be conceptually stripped down AND stuffed full of extra mechanics.

My favorite is the undead (ofc, it hews closest to my concept for the original frankenstein): its charge mechanic was on the base chassis for a while before i realized it wasn't one of the three central mechanics.

My second favorite is the construct, which i fell in love with aesthetically but couldnt quite crack mechanically. They're a stalker assassin(????) puppet murder doll goddammit i forgot to rename their abililties w/e fuck it post that shit

goals for a more complete writeup:

• a lifepath or background table (i like player aids that are a little game-y and aren't massive blocks of text)
• +1/2 subclass abilities? (they're more fun to write than the base class, and it would be cool if the murder doll had a "cracked face" ability of some kind)
• table of interesting starting limbs (5e equipment tables are pretty open ended but a toolbox class deserves smth more specific, with like lockpick hands and pogo feet)

Your Only Move Is (GLOG Class: Hustler)

 

HUSTLER
Start with: Two weapons (see below)
+2 Techniques per template
A - Combo
B - Like a Book
C - Yomi
D - Hustle

A: Combo
Whenever you roll to deal damage, you may reroll the damage to begin a combo.

• If the new amount exceeds your last damage roll, it becomes the damage dealt. You may repeat this process to extend the combo.
• If the new amount is equal to the current damage, you drop the combo and can't reroll again.
• If the new amount is below the current damage, you drop the combo AND get punished: your target gets a free hit on you.

Example: You hit for 3 with a sword (d8). You extend and this time roll a 5. You've now landed a 2-hit combo and dealt 5 damage total.

You can freely swap items between your hands, pockets, stowed inventory, and immediate surroundings in the middle of your combo.

Keep track of your longest combo, for bragging rights if nothing else.

 

B: Like a Book
If you know someone well enough, you can read them.

First, declare three nontrivial facts you know about them. Next, declare an action. You learn how your target would immediately react to your action. (Basically ask "If I do X, what will they do in response?")

You can read someone in response to dropping your combo on them, negating your last roll; or to reduce their incoming damage to you by d12.

If you are mistaken in one of your nontrivial facts, the information you get from your read will also be mistaken. (Noble gm, lie thru your teeth!)

You can't do this again until you meditate for an hour, learn three new things about them, or crit them.

 

C: Yomi
You can read mysterious levers, magic items, empty hallways, dead bodies, and other non-living things.

You still need to declare three nontrivial facts. ("The sword is made of gold" is trivial, because you can observe it without prior context. "The sword belonged to Juan Guerrera" is better. "This room is an altar to Hel." You get the idea.)

When reading hallways, levers, and other dungeon features, you may choose to read the dungeon itself.

When reading a corpse, you learn how they would have reacted if they were still alive. ("If I did X, what would they have done in response?")

 

D: Hustle
You deal additional damage equal to the length of your current combo. (i.e. if you are rolling to extend a two-hit combo, you add +2 damage to the result.) (Yes, you can now deal theoretically infinite damage.)

You also get a free read against lower level fighters.

Weapons
If your gm is cool they'll let you use these for other classes too.

1. Ninja pot pourri (d4) — 20 shuriken/kunai/caltrops/noisemakers/bladed fans/etc. hidden all over your person. You can throw up to 1 + [templates] of them at a time.
2. Unarmed strikes (d6) — Your bare hands, feet, elbows, knees, and forehead. Intense training has made them resistant to heat, cold, electricity, and gentleness.
3. Katana (d10) — The sharpest of all swords (which deal a mere d8). With each strike, you can teleport behind your target.
4. Lunar Arc (d6) — Silvery bow. Pins clothes to walls. Deals d8 when bathed in moonlight.
5. Flames (d6 per template) — From your own mouth. Reload by eating spicy food.
6. Tome (d6) — On your third hit in a combo, cast a spell at +1MD for free:
1. Frost — [sum] damage, doubled against fire types.
2. Skull — Conjure [sum] floating spectral skulls. Opportunistically bite those who get too close for 1 damage and then vanish (basically a "pool" of damage you can add to your attacks).
3. Boost — Send yourself flying [sum] x 10' in any direction.
4. Trance — Until combat ends, [sum] targets have +1 to hit and damage and hear a battle rhythm that allows them to communicate wordlessly and instinctually at any distance.
7. Bone Claws (d6/d6) — Schlorp out of your wrists, dealing d6 damage to you.
8. Orb (d4) — Floating telekinetic runed stone sphere. Obeys your thoughts. Can exert as much force as one of your arms.
9. Pistolfoot (d6) — 10' VERTICAL LEAP KICK BIRDS (& birdlike beafts wink nudge) OUT THE AIR
10. Lasso (d6) — Can crack as a whip or wrangle a varmint from afar.
11. Bioelectricity (up to d6) — Zaps out of your palm. The target becomes charged, taking or dealing +d6 damage from or with a metal weapon, once.
12. Phantom limb (d6) — Replaces your dominant hand. Deals damage by aging its victims that many years.
13. Princess (d4/d4) — A willful and fearless animal. Spend your attack to command her. Deals d6s against creatures her size, like gnomes and squirrels.
14. Slab of iron (d12) — A piece of metal too huge and unwieldy to be called a sword. -4 to hit.
15. Orcaxe (d8) — d12 against orcoid body plans. 
16. Boulder (varies) — Torn out of the ground or wall, as available. Deals d4/d6/d8/d10/d12, depending on how many slots heavy it is. A brick is a 1-slot boulder.
17. Revolver (2d6) — Six-shooter. Figure out how to reload it.
18. Mist clone jutsu (varies) — Roll damage twice and take the higher. Clone dies in a single hit, can't dodge, and is created with no equipment. Fleeting sentience.
19. Fender (d12) — You turn into a car and hit people with yourself. Take all the damage you deal.
20. Everything else (d4) — Anything you can get your hands on counts as an improvised weapon. 

Interesting Maids

fkey

Doggerlands PCs are all pure-blooded dogs. Their servants, however, are imported from various nations and small isles.

For the most part, maids of a given type are all the same. You don’t need to know much more than that; you definitely shouldn't play as one of these.

1. Ardward
Smugeyed tawnylipped longwits too clever for their own good. Wear hats shaped like little boxes, which they use to hide their long, silky hair from lascivious suitors. If you are pursued by an ardward, throw a book on the ground; they'll be compelled to kneel down and scan it for grammatical errors. They're fast readers, so make it a big book.

2. Scuriani
Flattongued flipflopping slickbacks. Closely related to ducks, who they hate. The hair on their neck changes hues with their environment and emotions. Men are emotional, women are taciturn, both are easily goaded into knife fighting.

3. Dalula
Mooneyed mousy blacksaps. Born in litters of two or four: only children are especially ominous. Predisposed to diabolism, possession, and eldritch madness; otherwise personable and polite. A flame lit by a dalula burns deep, sinful crimson; it is bad luck to let a dalula carry your candle.

4. Cigner
Craning darksocketed peekers. Very hard to see in the dark, aside from their yellow pinprick pupils. Ghoulish laughter (save vs nausea), puerile sense of humor. Hide their hands, which are often deformed. Fighting custom revolves around roundhouse kicking each other in the neck.

5. Mau-mau
Sallow softboned meltymouths. Blush green. Slow to illness, quick to injury. Kindly to the point of superstition. If too harshly criticized, they bleed.

6. Iron Coastal
Clamcracking sexless boulderbrows. Glitter in the sun like fresh asphalt. Ears fold back when scheming, which is most of the time. Looking at the ocean grants them a profound sense of comfort, nostalgia, and also light precognition. Also called whalekin or welsh.

7. Nari
Lackwise hamhocked unicorns. Work quickly in the cold and glacially elsewhere. Strong singers and stronger swimmers. Born to a rich culinary and oratory tradition. Overvalued for their horns; a stumped nari is worth nothing at all.

8. Ogre
Braggadocious rosegoggled beerwolves. Drink like sinkholes and fight like bull elephants. Partially colorblind and completely artblind: beautiful dresses are like camouflage to them.

9. White
Bulbfingered blinkless beanpoles. Look older than they actually are. Pathologically restless. Every white is given an esoteric metal device at birth, the function of which they must decipher via obsessive fidgeting to attain maturity. To know this function is to know one very, very intimately.

10. Ester
Semitranslucent and perpetually on the verge of tears. Sentimental psychopaths: killing an ant makes them cry; slaughtering a calf does not. Fall in love with rivers and especially shapely hills. Molt once a year; it takes a week and a half, and is very messy.

11. Malisian
Zippertoothed picknosed filchos. Superarticulated fingers will flit into your pockets unless you brandish an iron arrow at them; a goodhearted malisian will sate this urge by simply misplacing your belongings. Quietly competent in malefic, the written language of the first necromancers; any malisian who learns magic gets their fingers cut off. They have no country.

12. Praian
Gloamy looseleaf horsecels. Laugh easily and quietly. Invented the game of charades and the dark art of mime. Hopeless romantics with showy courtship rituals. Compensate for their incomprehensible accents by having nothing of import to say.

a cigner, iron coastal, and white
as interpreted by my fiancee 

Worldbuilding Wizard (GLOG Class: Sorcerer)

eli minaya

In the first age, magic was the great and terrible flood which carved creation into shape. The flow has since been dammed, reduced to a trickle of piddling cantrips, like invisibility and fireball.

Two theories prevail on the wizard apocalypse. The first claims that all magic, including anaerobic respiration and true love, will one day dry up. The second claims that one day, randomly and without warning, the dam will break.

SORCERER
Start with: four spells; your choice of sword, harp, or magic cow; flammable blood
A - Origin Magic
B - Fame
C - Omens
D - Signature Spell

A - Origin Magic
You are a bottomless wellspring of origin magic, which is like regular magic but better in every way. Choose whether this is effortless or debilitatingly painful for you.

When you cast a spell, it is fearsome, catastrophic, or otherwise excessive in its effects. (For example, you may cast knock to open a door, and in doing so destroy every door in the dungeon, and the town, and also the next town over.)

• The first rule of origin magic is the rule of 3s: your spell must do more than you intended, and also something else, and also one more thing. You and your gm should take turns describing these, escalating each time.

After casting, make a note of the spell you cast and whether the results were fearsome, tricky, noble, or wicked. (For example, knocking down a castle gate in wartime is fearsome, but knocking open a portal to fairy land is tricky.) These are the deeds you will be known by.

• The second rule of origin magic is the event rule: your spell must go down as a significant event in local history. An easy way to fulfill this condition is to create a permanent landmark: a thicket glamoured by invisibility, or a barren waste with fireball.

You can only cast each spell once, even if you learn a second copy of it.

• The third rule of origin magic is the rule of worldbuilding: your spell must force the gm to write something down about the world that has been forever changed, preferably while sighing and googling something about medieval population dynamics.
• The final rule of origin magic is "a wizard did it": your spell must create some kind of monster as a byproduct. This part is completely up to the gm. The monster doesn't have to reveal itself immediately; when it does, roll reaction for hostility.

B - Fame
Every significant NPC knows your name and deeds.

You also gain an additional ability based on which type of deed you have the most of:

• If you have a fearsome reputation, you can make an additional attack per round.
• If you have a tricky reputation, your disguises are always perfect, and can even fool gods.
• If you have a noble reputation, you can speak with swords and horses.
• If you have a wicked reputation, lower level creatures freeze in fear when you glare at them.

C - Omens
You learn four more spells. Once all four have been cast, you die (or at least retire in a way that permanently removes you from the game).

This is totally natural and expected; it's basically wizard puberty.

Also, you can receive two-word omens about the future if you have ten minutes and appropriate divinatory tools. (You may use any and all methods interchangeably, from ornithomancy to ouija.)

D - Signature Spell
Choose a spell you've cast before. Whenever you confiscate a dangerous magical artifact, land a critical hit, or dream of drowning, you can cast that spell again.

 

witch hat atelier

Play this class to punish your gm. It's fairly rules-agnostic, so feel free to grab spells from anywhere. Here's some to get you started:

1. Jam
   [sum] doors, windows, or similar gateways can't fully close. If slammed shut, they violently bounce back open, dealing [highest] damage to the slammer. You may cast this in response to a door (etc.) closing.
2. Testament
   If the target dies in the next [minute/hour/day/year], they collapse into a ball of black ice, dealing [sum] damage to everything in the room. (This is how lichmoths achieve metamorphosis.)
3. Venom
   You become as venomous as any creature you hold in your hands, and your blood becomes the antidote.
4. Chip
   Put a dent in anything--even an adamantine shield--without breaking it. If it wasn't working before, it starts working. If it was, it stops working for the next [sum] minutes. Gods find this shit extremely aggravating.
5. Axle
   Rotate an object [90/180/270/360] degrees instantly. Living things get a save vs a broken neck.
6. Dizzy
   Target loses their sense of balance. If cast with 4 or more MD, target loses their sense of gravity as well, and falls in a random direction.

Thronesposting

kids these days always on their god damn thrones

 

There are no mundane thrones.

A king's throne can delude you (echoes of former grandeur). A lich's throne can possess you. A god's throne will evaporate you. 

The oldest valleys were the thrones of giants. Life grows wild in these places, towering many-crowned stags and titanic long-robed slugs. Men raised in these valleys grow tall; giants raised outside of these valleys diminish. (What was, will be.)

[Why does this happen? The soul (which is contained in a jewel-like organ in the ass, keep up) leaves an indelible imprint on the world. A heavier soul leaves a deeper imprint. This is as true of a dragon's lair as it is of a king's throne.]

 

Wizards, kings, and wizard-kings all require thrones. They spend inordinate amounts of time sat in a sort of meditation/cultivation: the technical term for this is brooding. This funnels power into the throne, to various magical ends...

d20 Throne Effects

1. All things that die nearby immediately arise as undead.
2. Walks under its own power on six powerful leonine legs.
3. Drains the blood of illegitimate kings.
4. Controls the flooding of the two closest rivers. 
5. Reveals the future in apocalyptic fragments.
6. Sees thru all depictions of the King's Eye. [☸]
7. Midas curse!!!!!
8. Projects close range divine terror field. Can be extended with psychic training.
9. Invites gnomes. Generates whimsy at industrial scales.
10. Shoots beholder beams. +1 beam per mounted jewel. 
11. Gradually grows, turning you into a giant. 
12. As supercomputer.
13. Guarded by two angels.
14. Shapeshifts, conceals, disguises, glamours, and beguiles.
15. Calls barbarian warriors from faraway lands.
16. Grants passage into dreams.
17. Blinds God.
18. Bestows d12 superhuman heirs.
19. Summons spirits of pestilence.
20. Ages you backwards.

A dynastic throne has been cultivated for many lifetimes, and therefore possesses many effects. A stolen throne is just as potent, but volatile and willful.

Powerful thrones are embedded in the world. They can't be moved: if you want to abuse the wizard's recliner, you'll have to move in with him. Likewise, if the recliner starts giving you trouble, you'll have to move out to be rid of it.

In the wake of a great and powerful evil, the land must be abandoned. What remains is a husk ruled by the throne itself. The undynasts call these cicada cities.

A broken throne eventually fades. If some brave soul were to enter a cicada city and destroy the throne, the land would eventually return to its natural state.

[The process takes hundreds of years, so it's not a serious priority for anyone with the power to do anything. Those who seek the cicada cities usually do so for less altruistic reasons.]