Kærwynn
A Fierce &
Feuding Feast
A lone songbird comes to rest atop a crumbling, ruined wall of granite and blood-mossed shale, where dawn's fresh dew enchants the rising sun.
This mile-long stack of stone most ancient, most holy, shall soon sing with every honour 'pon this annual feast of fury.
Listen well, now, o'er from low-slung hill to meagre field beyond most unassuming, as the distant thunder of weathered war-drums escorts its peasant legions proud.
To the chime of pike and mace, of mail and plate, two armies now ascend, awash with eager incantations whose well-spring spoils most nobly.
For to Kærwynn they have come, to the Wall of Empires fallen. For sport and skirmish, to honour and afoul, to fill the summer sky with burnished standards bold and shimmering.
To sing again that fiery, transcendent song of flailing fist and elbow, where spill and shear their blood and flesh 'pon this most merry, handsome day!
Come, friends, come enthralled! For the time of our Field & Feast has come! For glory, then, to Kærwynn, called! Onwards, Onwards, Onwards, All!
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pron. Care-Win
The site of an ancient, barely remembered siege, where once stood a Hill-Top Fort.
All that remains now is a vague stone wall, cutting through the centre of a wide, grassy plateau.
Every year, two towns send forth a peasant rabble to partake in a sporting tournament of indiscriminate chaos, violence and brutality.
The rules - though often wildly flouted and prone to spur many a disagreement - are fairly simple.
The two opposing Village "armies" attempt to hold, and carry, a nettle-stuffed goat-bladder - coated in grease and set alight - back and forth across the remains of Kaerwynn's crumbling wall.
Should the ball be at any point transported across this bygone bloodstone stack, a point is scored, signalled to the crowds by a screaming arrow loosed above Kærwynn.
None in living memory have heard this sound.
The contest begins just as the sun is most high, and the first star seen near sunlight's fall brings the game to its end. The feasting, music, and merrymaking continues for many days thereafter.
Officially, weapons are strictly prohibited on the field of play, as is the use of magic.
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Use this section as a quick reference during play, or at the start of a Session to refresh your GM senses!
Sights
Huge roaming crowds of bawdy, bruised, drunken, brash, jolly folk of all manner & persuasion.
Horses and oxen, Barrows and carts, bundled and stacked with produce and wares for sale.
Fires, encampments, tents & bivouacs.
A great and misty field upon a downland plateau.
Sounds
Cheers, whoops, hollers, yawls, screams, & songs.
The thundering of many hundreds of pairs of booted feet upon turf and crumbling wall.
The jig of fiddles, lyres, banjos, dulcimers, & drums.
Peddler yells & calls as the many merchants and stall-holders hawk their produce.
Smells
Bonfires.
Mead, Ale, Wine & all manner of distilled spirits.
Sweat, urine, vomit, faeces, dung, blood.
Roasting meats, stews, soups, pies, etc, etc.
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The grand contest's festivities are rich with attendant trade, and the sheer enormity of the gathering offers a banquet of financial opportunity.
A sizeable portion of coin is passed back and forth among the many gamblers and their ilk. Fortunes are said to have been made at Kærwynn, betting on everything to knock-outs to teeth declared.
Merchants grand and small use the Feast as a time not only to sell, but to make alliances, forge partnerships, sign contracts, and host grand spectacles to show off their wealth.
All is abuzz with capital - from the meagrest, dirt stained copper purchasing sweet hot-loaves, to the coin-purses stuffed with precious jewels thrown to the swivel-headed bookmakers. -
Aside from the large number of onlookers, participants and their parties, the Feast of Kaerwynn brings all manner of trades-folk and wily entrepreneurs.
Cooks, ale-makers, luck-charmers, souvenir-hawkers, armourers, blacksmiths, clerics, herbalists, and more, arrive with barrows teetering and tents stuffed to bursting with varied wares and services.
For many come to gawp and cheer, to behold the chaos and rejoice in the keeping (and settling) of many a-score.
Among the crowds, too, are those who attend to cherry-pick the best fighters, those of brawn and brain, to offer to them expedition and adventure of a far more dangerous kind. -
Legends! Tales! Stories for the fireplace and the ale-house! Far and wide do such things go, to the horror of some, and the pride of many more!
Champions, too, go forth into the world, and it is enough to bend the ear of many a tavern-goer should a Kærwynnian sup of an ale 'pon a nearby stool. -
The fields about Kaerwynn become something of a makeshift village during the Feast, and lodging may be found beneath any number of comfortable canvases here and there, if one is willing to part with a sizeable weight of coin.
The Traveller would be wiser to bring a tent or bed-roll of their own, and to arrive early to secure a good pitch.
In truth, not a great deal of sleep is to be had, as the festivities roll far either side of the Feast Day, with naught much to discern day from night beside moon and sun. -
At dusk upon the eve of each Feast, each "army" elects a Kærwynn "King" or "Queen"; tradition dictates this be a child, crowned with what remains of the charred, nettle-stuffed goat's bladder of the previous year's contest.
Throughout the day, they are seated on a high platform so that they might view the entire field of play, and enjoy tribute and honours from all around.
Most years, this King or Queen is the orphaned child of a parent lost the previous year; for though Kaerwynn be a sporting feast, it feeds 'pon broken bones and blood and bile and - often - lives.
Second to this "royal" figurehead are the many Captains; veterans, all, of the Feast of Kaerwynn, and fierce in the discharge of their duties.
Some are drunkards delighting in the occasion, some barbarians who come for glory, some shrewd tacticians keen to turn the screw upon their opponents, or to weaken them far beyond the fields of this noble Hill.A clutch of Elders adjudicate general infractions, dispensing any rulings as necessary. These are wizened old-hands of the Feast, though frequently taken more by plum-wine, gambling and cavorting than by their duties to the Field of Play.
The Elders are also charged with official scoring, although none have managed a point in recent memory.
Despite random (and frequent) acts of petty crime, there is no law in attendance; no constable, nor guard, nor sheriff wanders Kærwynn.
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Kærwynn's origins being lost to time, it is known now only for its festivities. Many see opportunities to settle debts or quash grudges, others a chance to gain notoriety and renown, or to profit handsomely in coin.
Despite arriving with all manner of edged and mêlée weapons, participants are forbidden from using such tools of war during the Feast.
It is to be remembered that the use of weapons and magic is strictly prohibited upon the Field.
Various articles are smuggled into play, however; knuckle-dusters and various steel and iron toe accoutrements being highly favoured, along with hempen hand-wraps dipped in honey, broken glass, and thistle-thorns.
Bucklers (smuggled onto the Field as belt and boot buckles) are also popular choice, their use being two-fold; defensive and offensive.
Many a bard's tale mentions the spirit of ingenuity alive at Kærwynn!
One such tale is of a farmer being removed from the field for employing a stout and heavy cast iron frying pan pilfered from a canteen. Another story tells of a villager clothing a wild black-bear in the garb of a human, and setting it loose upon the field.
Rare are they who enter play seeking to murder, and an unruly equilibrium tempers the chaos, ensuring the brutality teeters at the edge of death's grip.
That mighty end being everywhere, however, it makes no exceptions for Kærwynn; injuries abound, much blood is spilled, and it is not unusual for a handful of people to lose their lives variously to unforeseen accidents and innocent incidents each year somewhere upon the Field.
Indeed, this is where many even dream of meeting their end. -
This list is by no means exhaustive, and is intended simply to stir the pot of your own imagination.
Use what follows as starting-points, or ignore them entirely in favour of your own Adventure Hooks!
Roll 1d6 or choose from the Table below :
1 - a detestable Mage has poisoned the waters of the nearby streams with a curse that will place all under their control; in essence : instant army, just add water.
2 - the spirits of the Dead of the ancient battle of Kærwynn, having had their fill of this yearly cacophony, and finding their memory thoroughly bespoiled, rise up to smite the ungodly disruptors!
3 - One of the Residents of Notehas been murdered, their body laying undiscovered for several hours. A large hoard of coin belonging to them is untouched.
4 - a Noble family’s heir/heiress has snuck to Kærwynn, seeking adventure and glory! The Party have been hired to find, and return them home.
5 - one of the Party has familial ties to one of the Peasant Armies, and are called upon to fulfil their duties via participation.
6 - the Party have been hired to protect a vast prize of Coin being offered - for the very first time - to the victors of this year's Feast! Every corner of the field is abuzz with rumours of it, and the threat of thievery pervades. -
Roll 1d10 for a Kærwynn Snack
1 - Kings/Queens Fingers - a spiced parsnip on a stick, surrounded by a cake like substance, and dipped into a strawberry jam. Created in homage to the Kærwynn King & Queen, and one of the Feast’s oldest known attendant traditions.
2 - Liver & Radishes - a coarse, pale stew seasoned with peppery shredded radish, served with stale bread and apple sauce.
3 - Stuffed Pine Mushrooms - large, easy to find mushrooms that have been stuffed with hard cheese that has been melted to be softer, along with some small roasted pine nuts.
4 - Grey Light Garnish - a salad-like meal consisting of a local grey moss that glows dimly with an ingredient rumoured to enhance one’s strength; widely believed but never proved.
5 - Chug-Knuckles - small hazel-type nuts; boiled, smashed, spiced, and served in small deep-fried balls. Wonderful projectiles once cooled and hardened, but also excellent with rice and chilli jam.
6 - Posst - a wooden skewer onto which various vegetables chunks have been strung, before the entire thing is dripped in pigeon fat and roasted over an open fire.
(Albyon’s note : the name of this simple culinary pleasure derives from the noise the dripping bird fat makes upon the flames of an open campfire)7 - Pickled Toad Spawn - something of an acquired taste, and mostly enjoyed by the inebriated, this unusual delicacy clears the sinuses and invigorates the lungs.
8 - Squab Pie - small, yet hearty, pies seen as something of a delicacy. The outside edge of the pastry is decorated with the marks of rooks' feet.
9 - Collops - slices of steamed meat served with boiled eggs, all wrapped up in a sweet, caraway seeded flatbread.
10 - Crab-Apple Toffees - a sweet and simple pleasure enjoyed by all ages that forever pins their memory to Kærwynn.
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Look in any direction and the eye beholds all manner of banners, standards, and flags all sizes and colours! Some clean, freshly stitched, others flecked with mud and grease and peppered with shreds, tears, and holes.
Roll 1d8 or choose from the Table below to discern the nearest flag!
1 - A maroon rectangular field dressed with a golden pig in flight.
2 - A quartered design, diagonally opposing bright blues and yellows.
3 - The white emblem of a flying fish upon a deep blue field.
4 - Emerald green field bearing a bright yellow wheatshef.
5 - Two bears fighting over a pineapple.
6 - A white banner with a bright golden trident emblazoned upon it.
7 - A black raven emblazoned upon a red/white/red trio of pales.
8 - A flaming bladder upon black triangular field.
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Roll 1d20 for a Kærwynn Trinket!
1 - A child's rib wrapped in red-woollen thread.
2 - A rusted prick spur decorated with the letters R.H.
3 - A crimson velvet covered brigandine, partially set ablaze and abandoned.
4 - A short-sword’s pommel decorated with a family coat of arms in faded enamel.
5 - a pouch of teeth, and teeth fragments, collected by children post battle, often sold to spell slingers.
6 - Woollen finger puppets of various heroic competitors of the past.
7 - Fox-fur mittens, stuffed and padded at the knuckles.
8 - A wooden club studded with beaver teeth.
9 - A pocket-sized handbook detailing impact and injury points.
10 - A sackful of stones, each one painted to look like a chunk of bread.
11 - Arrow heads dipped in tar-like poisons.
12 - A silken neckerchief that seems to weigh nothing at all, yet is heavy with the scent of honeysuckle.
13 - A small sacking-cloth pouch full of Wheatear beaks.
14 - A live Hare, tied up in a sack filled with the mist of some unknown spell(s).
15 - A large Haddock, and as though freshly plucked from the sea only moments ago.
16 - A small sack of potatoes that seem to explode into variously coloured powders when thrown.
17 - A pair of dark metal eye-goggles, the lenses of which appear to reveal metal objects upon any person.
18 - A large wheel of cheese that rolls along behind its owner.
19 - A wooden bucket full of a thick, flammable paste.
20 - A pale silver arrow sporting a rather finely carved whistling-tip.
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Roll 1d8 for a Kærwynnian Encounter, or choose from the Table below :
1 - An explosion rings out, blasting a crater into the field of play, sending participants flying in all directions.
2 - A herd of rampaging creatures enters the field.
3 - All around, Villagers are doubled over, vomiting a vile and acrid liquid.
4 - A “potion” seller sets up shop selling flavoured waters, convincing people it’ll enhance their physical prowess during the Contest.
5 - A farmer hands out heavy, fist-sized bags of seed, encouraging folk to use them as weapons. Unbeknownst to all, the seeds are under an enchantment, and will sprout as soon as they hit the dirt.
6 - Several Villagers with sleeply-poison tipped blades secreted in the tip of their boot are causing a sharp and chaotic havoc in sections of the onlooking crowd.
7 - A mysterious shower consisting of marbles and ball bearings rains down from above; none seem sure of their origin or cause.
8 - A Dragon makes itself known upon the Field, demanding an end to this noisily unruly Festival once and for all.
Magical Artefact of Kærwynn
brought to you by the marvellously magical
Mowse Brews
- creator of D&D 5e Magical Items -
Residents of Note:
ancestries have not been allocated, allowing the GM to assign as appropriate.
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Long, silver hair pinned tidily up; Dressed in stained, rough grey flannel, with a large, billowing black neck-scarf tied about the collar of a coarse blouse.
Their hands are greasy and darkly stained from polishing armour.
They smoke a curved yellow clay-pipe, and speak calmly, flatly, employing the most foul language as though it were seasoning the air.
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A shaved head that shows many scars, and a single eye-glass through which they squint up at the sky, as though forever expecting rain.
They speak several languages fluently, and are keen to engage any in their native tongue.
From time to time they might be spied smearing mud from the ground across their leather armour, and muttering to themselves; whether prayers or curses, who could say?
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Dressed in black buttoned, woollen shirt rolled to the elbows, brown woollen trousers, and oversized boots without laces. Their black hair, smartly slicked with short back and sides, glistens above their bright blue skin.
Always rolling three small black pebbles about in their hand which, from time to time, are shaken and slammed down upon the nearest surface. Delighted or disappointed at the result, their purpose remains unclear.
They seem to know much about a great many people, and they enjoy the whispering and hoarding of secrets.
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An affable, and popular, wandering seller of baked potatoes.
Skrouch moves with a heavy limp, and is almost impossibly broad, and tall.
Their wheezy, guttural laugh is heard long before they're seen, their fire-blackened hands endlessly greeting and bidding fondness and farewells to their many customers.They are accompanied, as they go, by a small horde of children, each adept in juggling and tomfoolery.
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A fanatical religious order of Dragon worshippers.
Their extensive pilgrimages are bankrolled by the trading in the armours forged in the arcane airs of Javelopender - a far-flung place where the storms hold remnants of the rage of the old Gods before their fall.
Members of the Trident Song travel in 3's, a single pony with them to pull an inconspicuous, rug-covered cart laden with chests within which lay armour pieces crackling with wind and electricity.
Markedly, the Trident Song preach pacifism, their Order espousing neutrality as they wander far and wide to spread the Dragon Word.
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Dressed in old leathers and worn chain-mail, they sit upon a goat-skin stool, chewing on a long-stemmed root, and squinting out at all before them.
They're known for liberally yelling foul curses and proclamations at attendants, and for throwing generous gifts of unusual coin to those who fight well or tell a good joke as they pass.
Over the years, they have come to believe that folk generally keep their distance out of some great respect, but - in truth - t’is their utterly foul body odours, along with the increasingly wild rumours of their involvement in the brutal slaying of a party of several Feast-goers during the previous year’s contest.
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A scruffy, rake-thin pick-pocket and ne'er-do-well on the look out for whatever slim opportunities fall before them.
They seem never to sleep, eat, nor drink, and are alert to a great many things.
They are accompanied by a blind squirrel, and the pair whisper back and forth all manner of sour curses and spit-speckled oaths.
Albyon’s Final Notes for the GM ~ pull apart this location so fantastically strange, toss aside all that irks to better rearrange the unspooling of inspirations, the pearls of this trade, to stitch anew an Adventure, a Quest freshly made, t’wards a tale of your party's own Kærwynn!
