George R. Shirer's Blog, page 16

Lux Tenebris: Strongarm Halflings

LUX TENEBRIS: STRONGARM HALFLINGS
Strongarm halflings are a halfling subrace found exclusively in the Southlands of Nur. Although they possess the traits common to all halflings (as outlined on p. 28 of the 5e Player's Handbook), they also possess unique traits.
Strongarm halflings tend to be more serious than other halflings, and slower to warm up to strangers in their midst.  They also tend to be more clannish than other halflings, preferring to associate mostly with their own kith and kin.  Strongarms are not unfriendly, per se, just more reserved and cautious than other halflings.
Strongarms appeared after the fall of the Phoenix Kingdom, when Southland halflings had to become more self-reliant re their own protection.  Halfling communities could no longer rely on the protection of knights or soldiers of the crown, so individuals within those communities began to take it upon themselves to defend their communities. Naturally, these likeminded individuals married each other, beginning a tradition of physical conditioning and martial study.
More martial than most other halflings, Strongarms spend a portion of their free time practicing with a weapon of their choice.  Many choose the hand crossbow, preferring to strike from a distance, but others choose traditional melee weapons such as the battleaxe or warhammer.
Strongarm halflings often surprise Northland fighters with their physical strength and martial ability.
Ability Score Increase. Your Strength score increases by 1.
Strongarm Weapon Training. You have proficiency with either the battleaxe, longsword, shortsword, warhammer or hand crossbow.

Lux Tenebris: The Southlands

            If you were to ask someone from Darkwater or Mountgate where the Southlands begin, they would probably describe the region south of the New Road and west of the Palatine Peninsula.  Ask the same question of someone from Alindor or Alindrast and they would laugh and say that they were the South.  Southlanders, however, would not include the Palatine Peninsula in the region, and would scoff at any part of Nur further north than Alorn's Wall or east of Dorem's Keep as being southern. Pretty much everyone agrees that the Southlands end at the banks of the Narnola River in the west.            Culturally, the Southlands share a common history and heritage that dates back to the time of the Phoenix Kingdom, when the Kings of the South ruled from Goldcastle and the Northlands were nothing but wild frontier.  The Phoenix Kingdom collapsed over four hundred years ago, at the Battle of Grey Hill, but Southlanders still talk of the event as if it were recent history.  They curse Athen Blackmantle's name to this day, burning him in effigy every winter, while Rochard, the last king's name, remains a popular choice for boys among humans and halflings.            Halflings are more prevalent in the Southlands than in any other part of Nur. They live quietly, in small villages or hamlets, farming the fertile valleys. Some halfling communities exist along the southern coast, but not many. Human communities dominate the Southshore and the northern and eastern regions, especially along the ruins of Alorn's Wall.            There are no proper cities in the Southland, and few towns of any prominence.  Fairhill is, perhaps, the best known community outside the region.  Although it is a prominent trade and social hub, Fairhill is best known as the headquarters of the Knights of the Phoenix Crown.            The Knights of the Phoenix Crown trace their history back to the Phoenix Kingdom. They were hand-picked by the King himself and charged with defending the kingdom from all threats, foreign and domestic.  The order served loyally and well for centuries, but was unable to prevent Athen Blackmantle's rebellion. Indeed, the order was betrayed by two of its most respected members, Sir Tellorol Leanleaf and Sir Ormero the Doomed, who chose to ally with their elven kin against King Rochard.  Although King Rochard died and the Phoenix Kingdom ended, the Knights of the Phoenix Crown remain, continuing to defend the South and its peoples from all manner of threats.            Elves are neither liked nor welcome in the Southlands. Many historians agree that if the elves had not betrayed King Rochard and allied with the Blackmantle that the Phoenix Kingdom could have survived. To this day, however, debate continues as to why the elves betrayed the king. The most widely accepted theory, at least in the South, is that they allied with the Blackmantle because he was a half-elf. Blackmantle's mother was from a powerful elvish family, and it is widely agreed that they engineered his birth to give them a road to the throne.             Whatever their reasons, when the rebellion failed the elves found themselves driven from the South. They fled north, establishing the cities of Goldsun and then Moonhome.  Even the wood elves fled the region, claiming that the traitorous acts of their cousins had poisoned the very land and water against the race.              There seemed to be some truth to the wood elves claim that the Southlands had been tainted by the rebellion.  Droughts, forest fires and pestilence seemed to fall upon the land. The Southshore was beset by storms and hurricanes.  Communities that had survived and thrived for centuries were wiped out, some in the space of a few days, others more slowly.             With no central authority, lawlessness swept the land. Banditry became common, almost expected, and the surviving coastal communities turned to piracy and shipwrecking to survive.             Eventually, the leaders of the larger communities, as well as the heads of various temples and the Knights of the Phoenix Crown came together and hammered out an agreement, known formally as the Compact of Three Rivers. The compact established a unified legal code across the Southlands, based heavily upon the old legal code of the Phoenix Kingdom. It also established a series of conditions and treaties wherein the individual members would agree to suspend any disagreements if the region was threatened by hostile forces, foreign or domestic. The compact would be evaluated every ten years, although it could be evaluated earlier if a majority of signatories desired.            Although the compact had no immediate affects, it laid the groundwork for greater cooperation and planning among the various Southern factions.  The mutual defense aspects of the compact would not need to be invoked for almost seventy years after the initial signing, when a plague of undeath would sweep the region.            The Gray Wardens appeared at this time, and, working with the Knights of the Phoenix Crown, ended the situation by tracking down and executing the Carrion Court, a group of evil necromancers.  Afterwards, the Grey Wardens would remain, declaring themselves guardians of the region's graveyards, ruins and haunted places.  And although many would find their presence, and their nature, unnerving, no one could deny that they kept the dead quiet and in their graves.            The compact would be invoked again, ten years later, when the Kraken Brotherhood tried to seize control of the Southshore, to turn it back into a haven for piracy. The Pirates War, as it became known, would drag on for almost three years before the Brotherhood would admit defeat and retreat.            In general, however, the Southlands have remained largely at peace.  Considered somewhat backwards by others, there is little trade between the Southland and the other regions of Nur. Insular and close-knit, the region's communities look after themselves and each other, preferring to ignore events happenings beyond their borders.            Unfortunately, the Southland has not been able to ignore the Draconic Invasion.  General Akor Korkiri led over 10,000 dragonborn legionnaires from Calhorne, in the east, to Moontree, in the west. Korkiri chose the most direct route, leading his army through the Southland. What little resistance they encountered, the dragonborns responded to with lethal ferocity.  Whole communities were laid waist to, while others were stripped of anything of value or use. The Draconic Legions moved quickly, leaving death and hardship in their wake.            However, after laying siege to Moontree and burning the coastal city to the ground, Korkiri chose to return to Calhorne along the same route. This would prove to be a fatal mistake, as the compact had been invoked and the South prepared a lethal greeting for the dragonborn invaders.  Knowing they could never field a proper army against the legions, the Southlanders adapted guerilla tactics.  They harangued the draconic legions with arcane spells and divine curses, assassinated key commanders and destroyed supplies. They prevented them from foraging by adopting scorched earth tactics, destroying anything in the legions' route that could be of use.  Southlander casualties were light, while draconic losses went from a trickle to a flood.            It was roughly 1500 miles from the banks of the Narnola River to Calhorne. Before they were even half way across the Southland, even after abandoning their spoils from Moontree, the Draconic Legions had been decimated by the Southern tactics. At the end, the Knights of the Phoenix Crown led a frontal assault upon the dispirited remnants of the draconic forces, decimating them. No quarter was given or asked for and the dragonborn dead were left where they fell, to replenish the land they had invaded.

Lux Tenebris: By the Campfire

            Night had fallen. The near-dark moon provided little light and what little it did shed did not penetrate the forest's canopy.  Iliana and Dero waited for their eyes to adjust to the gloom before proceeding into the wood. Nightbirds trilled and crickets chirped.  Around the halflings, scattered through the woods, campfires began to appear.            "I guess he really was the last soldier," murmured Dero.            Iliana said nothing, merely shifted her crossbow to her other shoulder.            Ahead, familiar silhouettes were gathered around a fire, a little further away from the others. Iliana led the way into the firelight, Dero close behind her.            The Lightfoot cousins, Oren and Hal Rosering, sat close to the fire.  They glanced up from the leather bag set between them, but said nothing.  They were taking turns, plucking coins or jewels from the bag and adding the loot to their own purses.            Ajala sat next to the twins, perched on an overturned log.  Whisper, her dire serpent companion, lay in languid coils over Ajala's shoulders and lap. The great black snake's head rested comfortably upon Ajala's silver-gray hair.  Occasionally, she would reach up and feed the beast tidbits from a pouch. Its eyes gleamed like polished emeralds in the firelight.            Sir Hospin stood a little way apart from Ajala, watching the woman and her beast. He was tall and thin, dressed in silver chain, one gauntleted hand resting lightly on the hilt of his blade, Elfbane.  He nodded at Iliana and Dero but continued to listen to what the final member of their little group was saying.            She was draped in heavy veils of grayish silver. Only her hands, white as snow, were visible and they moved when she spoke, emphasizing her words with elegant motions. Silver chains hung about her neck, from ceremonial shackles fitted about her wrists, connected to her girdle.  Her name was Yrella. She smelt of jasmine and earth and smoke. Just being around her made Iliana's flesh crawl.            Yrella turned toward Iliana. "It is done."            It was not a question, but Iliana nodded.             "You should have seen her," said Dero. "I never saw anyone so patient!"            "But it's done," said Hal. He plucked a gold coin from the sack, adding it to his spoils. "Took you long enough."            "If a thing's worth doing, it's worth doing right," said Oren, choosing a short strand of pearls.  He held it up and admired it in the firelight.            "Where'd that come from?"
            "Spoils of war," said Hal.            "I heard talk that the truthspeakers want to send the gold back to Moontree," offered Ajala.            Iliana settled herself by the fire.  "They try to do that they'll have a second war on their hands."            "That's truth," said Hal. He fished out a ruby and tossed it to Iliana. "Here, cousin. A reward for your patience."            Iliana caught the jewel and threw it right back to Hal. "We're not cousins and I don't need fancy jewels."            "You could buy yourself a new crossbow with that," suggested Dero. "Or get some better armor made."            "I'm fine as I am," said Iliana.            The Roserings glanced at one another and shook their heads. They would never understand the Strongarm woman's attitude.            "So what will happen now?" asked Dero, settling himself beside Iliana.            "Regarding what, Master Dero?" asked Sir Hospin.            Dero shrugged. "I don't know. The war, I guess."            "Whisper and I have heard things," said Ajala. She reached up and stroked her serpent's jaw, prompting it to flow and coil about the old woman like a living piece of shadow.            "What sort of things?" asked Iliana.            "Gossip. Rumors.  The northerners are massing an army at Fallen Baramir to march on Calhorne."            "Good luck to 'em," said Hal. He turned and spat over his shoulder. "Filthy dragonborn. I hope they get pushed back into the Wastes."            "Will we be joining them?" asked Dero.            "Some might," said Sir Hospin. "But my order will not. Our duty is here, to the South and the southern people."
            "As is mine," said Yrella, folding her hands together.  "There has been too much bloodshed already. The dead grow restless. They must be soothed lest their agitation rouses greater troubles."            "I was surprised, lady, when you Gray Wardens chose to involve yourself in the current matter," admitted Sir Hospin.  "You don't usually stir yourself from your ruins."            "With good reason, sir knight," said Yrella. "The affairs of the living seldom interest us, but the draconic incursion through our territories was impossible to ignore."            "For everyone," said Oren. "It's why the conclave was called and the pact invoked."            The others nodded.            "Now the dragonborn are all dead," said Iliana. "The pact is complete."            "Meaning what?" asked Dero.            "We go our separate ways, Master Stout," said Sir Hospin. "I, for one, will be glad to return to Fairhill."            "And we to the marshes," said Ajala, stroking Whisper's black coils. "What of you, Master Dero? Where are you bound after all this?"            "Back home to Glasswater, I suppose," said Dero. "I hadn't actually thought I'd live through all of this."            "But you did," said Oren Rosering. "So why you want to go back to a boring bump in the road like Glasswater is beyond me."            "And where will you be heading, Master Oren?" asked Sir Hospin. "You and your cousin are from the coast. True?"            "Blue Shell Cove," said Hal, proudly. "I can't wait to get back. With my share of the spoils, I can finally buy The Angry Frog."            "What's that?" asked Ajala.            "Or is it a who?" wondered Iliana.            "It's a tavern," said Hal, his eyes shining. "Best damn tavern in Blue Shell Cove!"            "Also, the only tavern in Blue Shell Cove," added Oren.            His cousin glared at him.             "And what about you, cousin? Where are you off to?"            Oren smiled. "Darkwater."            Hal stared at his cousin as if he had suddenly grown a second head.            "That's a fair ways away," offered Ajala.            "What in the Nine Hells are you going to do in Darkwater?" demanded Hal.            Oren shrugged, smiling a tiny smile. "Oh. I'm sure I'll find something to do in the big city."            "Keep one hand on your purse and the other on your knife," counselled Iliana. "Darkwater is full of villains."            "How do you know?" asked Oren. "Have you been there?"            "Yes," said Iliana, but did not elucidate.            "And you, Mistress Greenlane?" asked Ajala. "What are your plans?"            "I'm a Strongarm," said Iliana. "I'll go home to Kalkelak and get ready for the next fight."            Dero frowned at her. "You think there will be others?"            Iliana stared into the fire.  "There are always other fights."

Lux Tenebris: In the Long Grass

            Ssorn crouched in the long grass, his senses alert for any sign of danger. At his back was the forest, but on all other sides was open grassland.  A rough dirt tract cut through the tall grass ahead of him and to the right.  It wound along, dusty and red, like a line of dried blood.            The dragonborn scout flattened himself in the tall grass and muttered a quiet prayer to Ikilli. He did not know if the Wild Huntress would hear him or help him, but at this point, Ssorn decided prayer would not hurt.            He lay where he was for a few moments, letting the warmth of the sun sink into his body. Ssorn was lean and wiry for a dragonborn, most of whom were known for their bulk. In the legion, his comrades had good-naturedly goaded him about his small size, suggesting he was actually one of the lizardfolk pretending to be dragonborn.              Lying in the grass, Ssorn snorted. His comrades were dead now, their corpses left to rot in the forest behind him and along the road from Moontree.  Their greater size and hardiness had not saved their lives.  What use was strength or armor against foes who struck from the shadows with poisoned weapons? Who never showed their faces and vanished into the forest on silent feet?            Oh, how General Korkiri had raged at these tactics! His rage had done him no good. Ssorn remembered the morning the legion had discovered Korkiri's corpse.  The general had been stabbed through both eyes in his own tent. His guards had heard nothing.            After that, things had only gotten worse. They had lost their wizard and then their clerics. Although, in all fairness, the clerics had been of little use since the sack of Moontree. The gods had made their displeasure of that city's butchery obvious by withholding their divine favors.              Morale sunk among the legion as they marched east, heading back to Calhorne. With each quiet death the soldiers grew grimmer.  Someone had started a pool, taking bets on who would get back to Calhorne alive.  Ssorn thought the officers should have stopped it, but they didn't care. The legion continued to lose soldiers, and heart, every day they continued east.            And now I am the only one left, thought Ssorn, lying in the long grass.             They had abandoned their spoils days ago, to make better time. The commander had spread them out in a line, weapons at the ready, marched them through the forest.            When darkness enveloped Ssorn's part of the line, when he had heard his comrades roar in fury and pain, he had acted instinctively. He had dropped to the ground and fled like a craven cur.            But better a live cur, the dragonborn now thought, than a dead hero.            He still didn't know who, or what, had been harrying them.  Elves? Humans? Forest gnomes? Ssorn had heard the rumors that the western nations were moving to a war footing, gathering their armies in preparation for an assault on Calhorne.              Ssorn thought it unlikely that elves or humans would have resorted to such ambush tactics.  He could see forest gnomes attacking in such a fashion, but not for such a protracted time. And how would such military forces even know where they were? Or remain hidden from the legion's scouts?            There would have been some sign of an organized military force, thought Ssorn.            But there had been none. Just knives in the dark. Poisoned arrows shot with uncanny accuracy, penetrating weak spots in armor.            Korkiri's legion had not been defeated by soldiers, but by assassins.            And I have lived to tell the tale, thought Ssorn.             A cloud passed over the sun and the dragonborn shivered.             So far, he thought.            Ssorn lay in the long grass for some time, breathing in the smell of green growing things and rich dark earth. He listened for anything out of the ordinary, but heard nothing but the twitter of birds, the buzz of bees. The sun marched across the sky.  Shadows lengthened.              The dragonborn remained still, tensing and relaxing his muscles.  His mouth was dry but he did not reach for his canteen. Better to go thirsty than to risk discovery.            He waited, quietly, occasionally praying to Ikilli or the shades of his ancestors.            Let me live, prayed Ssorn. Let me return home, to walk the streets of Kargoth-Denn and pray for forgiveness in the Temple of Meleh for my cowardice. Let me return home, to offer wine and blood to my ancestors in the Field of Bones. Let me live.            The sun set.  Ssorn watched the sky darken. The first stars appeared, pale and shimmering. He did not move.            The moon appeared, a sliver of dark yellow, casting little light. Nightbirds sang to one another in the forest.  Crickets began to chirp.            Ssorn took a breath and slowly rose. He made no noise. Drawing a deep breath, he regarded the heavens for a moment and oriented himself toward the east.            I'll follow the tract, thought Ssorn. It must lead somewhere. A village or a farm. Somewhere I can find food and. . . .            The breath was knocked out of him and he fell to his knees. He looked down, tasting blood in his mouth, and stared at the crossbow bolt erupting from his chest.            He tried to speak, but he had no breath.  His vision began to darken, as he pitched forward, into the long grass. It smelt wet and green.            Ancestors, thought Ssorn. I'm sorry.            Then he was gone.* * * * *            "Cyric's truth! I thought he was never going to move!"            "He was patient," said Iliana. "And smart." She lowered the crossbow and walked toward the fallen dragonborn.            "Are you sure he's dead?" asked Dero.            "Yes."            "He's small for a dragonborn," said Dero, as they stood over the corpse.  "How old do you think he was?"            "He was old enough to be a soldier," said Iliana. She drew her knife, knelt on the dragonborn's back and jammed the blade into the base of the corpse's skull.            "What are you doing?"            "Making sure he's dead," said the woman.            "I'm pretty sure you already killed him."            She wiped her blade clean on the grass and slid it back into its sheath. "You can never be too sure."            "We should get back to the others. They're probably worried."            "I doubt it," said Iliana.            "Shouldn't we bury him or something? Say some words at least?"            "Why? Are you worried he'll come back as an angry spirit?"            "Well, I wasn't until you just said it."            "Let the grass and the worms have him," said Iliana.             Hefting her crossbow, she began to walk back toward the forest. Dero hesitated, glancing at the dead dragonborn. With a sigh he clasped his hands and muttered a quick prayer to Halab, asking the God of Mercies to look after the dead soldier's spirit. Then he hurried after Iliana.

I'm thinking it may be time, to return to Lux Tenebris.

I'm thinking it may be time, to return to Lux Tenebris.

Atela: Places of Interest

The Last Kingdom has many places of interest. 
Alda.The capital of Atela is Alda. Alda is the only city in the land. It is the home of the Kingpriest, the House of Lords and the Council of Bishops.  The Kingpriest's palace rises above the rest of the city; this is the residence of the Kingpriest, his wife, his concubines and various trusted courtiers. There is a heavy military presence in the city, and you can't throw a stone without hitting a priest. However, Alda is infamous for its taverns, whorehouses and theaters.
The Barrow WayBetween the Blessed River and the Guardian River is a stretch of land dotted with stone cairns and lumpish hills. These hills are barrows, mass graves of soldiers who fell during the Giants' War and the Lords' Rebellion.  Although safe to travel by day, once the sun sets this area is plagued by restless spirits and, even worse, barrow weights.  Attempts by the Church and Crown to pacify the region have been largely ineffective and most humans avoid the area whenever possible.
St. Ida's WoodAtela has a long list of saints, but few are as venerated as Saint Ida. There is some confusion as to whether Ida was a man or a woman. The Church teaches that Ida was a man, but among the common folk of the region it is widely believed Ida was a woman who posed as a man.  As such Ida is seen as a patron saint of men and women. Regardless of Ida's gender, he was a fierce warrior, a paladin in life who fought the enemies of man and eventually paid with her life. The Shrine to St. Ida is a popular pilgrimage site, especially for paladins and young priests.
St. Claena's WoodSt. Claena was a peasant woman who was pursued by a besotten elf-warrior, Claena fled and praid to God to save her virtue.  Her prayer was heard and answered; God transformed the peasant woman into a mighty tree. Today, St. Claena's Wood offers a refuge from elves; no elf can enter those woods and survive.  The wood from the trees is said to be blessed, capable of inflicting killing wounds to any fae creature.
The Lonely WoodOn the southern coast of Atela is a small forest, surrounded by grasslands. This foresst, known as the Lonely Wood, is a strange and haunted place. There are no human settlements or habitations within the Lonely Wood, but travelers tell stories of a mysterious house that appears and disappears on the edge of the wood. The house is the home of a powerful witch known as the Witch of the Lonely Wood. According to legend, she is very beautiful and uses her beauty to lead men into lives of sin and depravity.  Occasionally a paladin will enter the Lonely Wood, to seek out this foul sorceress and end her machinations. To date, none have ever returned.
HardhearthThe eastern grasslands of Atela, between the Guardian River and the River Fren, is scarcely populated. Hardhearth is the largest settlement in the region, a fortified garrison manned by veteran soldiers of the King's Army.  Hardhearth has been besieged by giants on three seperate occasions and never fallen. The town has an almost mythic reputation among the locals.  There are stories of divine relics burried beneath the town that are responsible for its safety. The Church denies these stories, but there is an unusually large number of priests who call Hardhearth home.
Imbir's CoveImbir's Cove is a fishing village on the Cold Coast. A centure ago it was a bustling trade port, but as the winters grew longer and colder, foreign trade diminished and eventually stopped. Today, Imbir's Cove is a miserable village of half-starved peasants who eek out a miserable existence from a combination of fishing and farming.  The beaches around Imbir's Cove are dotted with the bleached wooden remains of old ships. On some nights, bonfires burn on the sands, and the locals tell tales of sirens and sea-monsters coming ashore to plot mischief and murder around those same baleful fires.

Atela: The Devil & The Queen of Shadows

There are two Big Bads in the Last Kingdom: the Devil and the Queen of Shadows.
The Devil is the ruler of Hell a.k.a. the Underworld. According to the Church, the Devil was created by God to test humanity by tempting them.  However, as the Devil spent more time with humans and saw how easily they were corrupted, he himself became corrupt. God saw the Devil's failings and exiled him from the Heavenly Realm. Furious, the Devil retreated to the Underworld, where the souls of sinners languished. There, the Devil declared himself the nemesis of God's plans. He still corrupted humans, by seducing them away from God with promises of power or wealth or pleasure, but now he did it to expand his own power. So great was the Devil's corrupting aura that other angels refuted God, abandoning the Heavenly Realm and joining the Devil in Hell. These angels became devils and, over time, some of them became so debased that they 'devolved' into demons.
The Queen of Shadows is one of the Devil's consorts. Church doctrine is hazy on her origins. Some say she was an angel who followed the Devil into exile. However, others claim that she was born a mortal woman, who gave up her soul for immortality.  She is, literally, the Mother of the Elves, and that soulless race lives in abject fear and awe of her. According to lore, the Queen appealed to the Devil for aid when men turned on her soulless spawn. He agreed to help her for her eternal loyalty to him and she accepted his offer. The Devil gave the Queen of Shadows the Feywold, the unchanging realm where the elves live to this day. Where the Devil sees humanity as a resource to be used, or a tool to be wielded against God, the Queen of Shadows views them as nothing less than her most hated enemy. It is her hatred of them that infuses her children and compels them to wage war upon mankind.
PCs probably shouldn't meet either the Devil or the Queen of Shadows. Both characters are ferociously powerful, and should decimate any mortal that dares attack them. If the PCs do encounter either of these figures, their best bet to overcome them is through a battle of wits.  If the PCs can extract a promise from either villain, they will be compelled to obey their promise. However, neither figure should make promises lightly.

Atela: Notes on Religion

The Last Kingdom is dominated by a monotheistic, sun-based religion known simply as the Church.
The Church has existed for centuries and there are numerous records of angelic messengers communicating God's will with the Kingpriest.
This hasn't happened in a long while.
The religion is akin to the real world's Christian Old Testament. In Atela, God does not forgive or forget. This is a God that punishes those who break his commandments.
The religious commandments are pretty simple:

1) You shall not worship false gods. This is the literal truth in this setting. The God of the Atelan Church is the one true God; all other gods are pretenders or worse.

2) You shall not murder. Basically, it's okay to kill in self-defense or during war, but coldblooded murder is a sin.

3) You shall not steal. Pretty self-explanatory.

4) Husbands honor they wives.  The phrasing on this and references in the Holy Texts seems to indicate that God is fine with polygamous marriages. Or at least, that's how it's been interpreted by certain individuals. Legally, in Atela, a man can have a wife and concubines. 

5) Wives honor they husbands. Again, the phrasing on this has led to interesting theological discussions and arguments. On the Cold Coast, some women have more than one husband since sailors and seamen die so often.

6) Children honor they parents. This is one of the foundation-stones of Atelan society as children are expected to respect and care for their parents. A child who abandons or mistreats an elderly parent will be looked down upon by everyone and may be called before a Church court.

7) You shall not lie. Yes, this is a Divine Commandment and the reason parents punish their children severely when they lie.  It's not uncommon for witnesses who purger themselves in secular and Church courts to have their tongues cut out.

God is never depicted as human in religious artwork, but as a sun or solar disc.  Halos adorning the heads of saints and paladins are representation of God channeling his divine power through them.  The symbol of God is a stylized sun and the image is prevalent in church artwork and design. Religious services are always held during the day.  Heretics and diabolists are burned at night for a reason.

Although it hasn't been explicitly stated, most Atelans, including the clergy, believe that the reason the world is getting so cold is because God has turned his face from the world.  (This is actually true. God has turned away from the world to work on other projects, but no one in the Church knows this.)  It is widely believed that if all the people adhere to the Commandments then God will look favorably upon the world again and the long winters will stop.

Atela: NPC Enemies

In addition to elves, dwarfs and giants, the Last Kingdom is also threatened by more singular menaces.

BanditsBanditry is becoming something of a problem in Atela. As the winters grow longer, some people grow dissatisfied with their place in society. These malcontents reject the authority of Church and Crown, turn their back on the community of man, and serve only their own interests. Most bandits operate in small groups, waylaying unarmed travelers, but there are larger groups operating from the forests around the Dark Wood. Some bandits ally themselves with heretics and warlocks, but not even bandits will work with elves and giants.
Bandits in Atela are human and are generated as humans.
HereticsHeretics threaten the authority of the Church by questioning accepted religious doctrine. Most heretics are literate and educated. Many come from within the ranks of the Church itself.  Their actions seem innocent enough, but by questioning doctrine they often undermine the religious bedrock that human faith is built upon. The Church takes a hard line against heretics. They actively ferret them out and, once found guilty in a church court, are condemned to death by burning. There are two heresies, in particular, that the Church seeks to quash.The first, known as the Heresy of Questionable Mandate, questions the Kingpriest's divine sanction to rule. Heretics of this stripe believe that the Church should operate independently of the Crown. This would seem like something the Church would embrace, but doing so would open the door to all sorts of thorny religious and secular issues, chief among them the infallability of the Church itself.  This could, in theory, lead to a religious schism in the Church, which could have far-reaching and devestating consequences for Atela and humanity in general.The second heresy is known as the Heresy of the Avatar. This heresy states that God descended to Earth in mortal flesh and begat a divine child upon a noble bloodline. The Church vehemently opposes this heresy, stating that God has never taken physical form upon Atela and would certainly not engage in coitus with a mere mortal. Followers of this heresy believe that this divine bloodline will emerge soon and sweep away the old and corrupt, ushering in a new era of warmth and growth.
Heretics in Atela are human and are generated as humans.
The UndeadUndead in Atela are predominantly ghosts. Physical undead are rare. Restless spirits rise from unhallowed graves, and attack any living creature that they encounter.  Physical undead, such as skeletons and barrow weights, are usually associated with a specific location, such as a tomb or battlefield. Undead cannot enter hallowed ground and are vulnerable to radiant damage.
Undead should be generated using the descriptors in the 5e Monster Manual. Care should be taken by the DM to ensure that any undead are thematically appropriate for the setting. Ghosts, weights and will-o-wisps are appropriate for Atela. Vampires and liches are not.
WarlocksWarlocks are humans who have made a bargain with the Devil or one of his minions, gaining occult powers in exchange for service. Most people live in terror of warlocks as they can be anyone: family, friends, neighbors.  All warlocks have a devil's mark somewhere on their body, identifying them as a warlock. They cannot use magic to hide this mark.  Also, warlocks cannot use their powers on hallowed ground. Warlocks discovered by the Church are hung.
Warlocks are humans and are generated as humans. The Devil is the patron of all warlocks in Atela.Warlocks are proficient with Light armor and Simple weapons. They are proficient with the Deception and Persuasion skill, as well as one other Skill of your choice.At 1st Level, Warlocks choose the Fiend as their Otherworldly Patron.At 2nd Level, they choose one Elderitch Invocations.At 3rd Level, they choose a Pact Boon.At 5th Level, they choose a second Elderitch Invocation.
Warlocks are Arcane Spellcasters. They know a number of Warlock spells equal to their Character Level + their Charisma Modifier.
Their Spell DC equals their proficiency bonus  + Charisma Modifier +8.
Their Spell Attack Bonus equal their  proficiency bonus + their Charisma Modifier.
The number of spells a Warlock can cast per Character Level is displayed below.At 1st Level, one 1st Level spell.At 2nd Level, two 1st Level spells.At 3rd Level, two 1st Level spells and one  2nd Level spells.At 4th Level, two 1st Level spells and two  2nd Level spells.At 5th Level, three 1st Level spells, two  2nd Level spells and one 3rd Level spells.At 6th Level, three 1st Level spells, three 2nd Level spells and two 3rd Level spells.
WerewolvesWerewolves are victims. Most are created when they are attacked by a werewolf and survive. The next time the full moon rises, the person will transform into a Dire Wolf. In this altered form, the werewolf retains its human Intelligence, Wisdom and Charisma, but its physical attributes become those of a Dire Wolf. They also become resistant to all non-magical damage and damage from weapons that are not silver. They are vulnerable to silver. Werewolves attack any living thing they encounter, except other werewolves. If a werewolf is killed they transform back into their human form. At dawn, a werewolf will transform back into its human form with hazy memories of its actions during the night.  Any damage it takes in its wolf form, except from silver weapons, does not carry over to the human form.  Werewolves discovered by the Church are burned at the stake.
Werewolves have two forms.The human form is generated as a normal human. Their Dire Wolf form has AC 14, a Speed of 50, STR 17, DEX 15 and CON 15.  It has a Bite Attack with +5 to hit, and a 5 ft. reach. It does 2d6 +3 piercing damage and target creatures must succeed on a DC 13 Strength save or be knocked prone.In both human and Dire Wolf form, the werewolf has advantage on Wisdom(Perception) checks pertaining to smell and hearing.

The Lament of Hamelin

They heard the song
before the dawn
winding down the mountain.

The voice was sweet
worth rising to greet
but the words were incomprehensible.

All day long
flowed the song
and no one cared or minded.

Then ended the day
and the song went away
and was missed by one and all.

At the next day's dawn
there was no song
just the chill, gray airs of morning.

Folks up and woke,
but no one spoke
for the silence had undone them.

In silence they stood
in an undescribable mood
until the day was done.

But as the sun sank down,
the folk left the town,
and started walking toward the mountain.

Now they've been gone
for many a dawn
and I alone am left.

Deaf as a stone
in an empty home
wondering what befell them?

Did they die
or climb into the sky?
Was that voice from heaven or hell?

But if at dawn
you hear a lovely song
you should plug your ears with cotton.

For that pretty song,
could lead you wrong,
and remember the lament of Hamelin.