hic sunt

myrmeleones
Through the Thin Desert
Introduction to a Pocket Bestiary
Medieval bestiaries were like rumour tables sans polyhedral dice.
Erudite scribes compiled everything known about the oyster,
that pearl-birthing stone, while also teaching you about fara­way
Taprobana and the divine lessons of nature. This pocket bestiary
aims to do something similar, if less piously. It introduces the Thin
Desert, one region of the Red Planet, by way of its beasts.
Mechanically, I have borrowed two things that help the referee to
(re-)present a game world beyond the solipsism of graverobbers:
• Spoors, providing traces of nearby monsters (as seen on
the blog The Retired A­ dventurer). The procedure is simple: If
1-in-6 is a random encounter, 2 is a sign of what the players will
encounter if the next roll is a 1 or 2.
• Mien-tables, detailing what a monster is doing when first
met. Not a new idea, but systematized in the game Troika!
The back cover provides the encounter table. And inside:

3   Through the Thin Desert 18  Spellridden Jackals

4   Antlion 20  What Rides This Pack?
6   Dune Siren 21  Petty Hermits
8   Cinomolgus 22 Caravans
10 Ur-Bear 24 Travellers
12 Melachilisk 26  Nature Runs Amok!
14  Road Elemental 28  Six Thin Desert spells
16  Prickly Tailor 30  Class: Cinnamon Hunter

Cover: Detail from Roerich’s The Star of Mother of the World (1924), modified.
Illustrations: Pages 8, 10 & 18 © Martin Andersson, pp 6 & 16 © Anna J­ ansson,
pp 7 & 15 © Evlyn Moreau. All others reappropriated from the public domain.

redberryplanet.blogspot.com
Through the Thin Desert
For Nature is learned and full of matter,
and as infirm as Culture herself

The Twin Canals mirror each other so closely that astronomers

on Earth have mistaken the doubling for an optical illusion.
Where Thoth curves, Nepenthes follows. And midway between
them, their little sibling: The Thin Desert, a pseudo-canal of
dunes, hills, ruined ­palaces. While the water levels of the twins
grow lower each generation, the narrow waste grows wider.
As one approaches the desert, estates and villages grow ­further
and further apart. Then lonely farmsteads, in a futile s­ truggle
against dust and sand. After that, the ­monotony of the landscape
is ­broken only by the brooding remains of high civilization.
Crossing the desert takes less than a week. Nonetheless, most
travellers would rather squander a month in wait for a caravan
than strike out on their own. For bands of jackals and gods-­
forsaken things stalk the empty m ­ ansions and petrified forests,
and a single night suffices to get eaten, waylaid or driven mad.

On the Bildung of Ares: A Note on Red Planet Nature

Nature ­abhors non-sense. The most hetero­dox naturalist a­ccept
this postulate. A rudimentary intent, a paltry ­utility, is hidden in
even the most ­wretched little phalanstère of ­algea. The Garden
has provided the spawning pool for feral Nature, not the other
way around. But the Book of ­Nature in the Age of Senility is a
strange ­bricolage. ­Entire ­sections have been lost to ­cataclysms
and the whims of ­emperors. ­Addenda sprawl in ­every direction,
cut through by censure and redactions. O ­ riginal ­designs have
vanished together with the figure cut ­ecologies that once nursed
them, with new meanings and ­morals fighting to fill the vacuum.

3
 Antlion

Bestiaries tell us that the antlion »has the fore parts of a lion and
the hind parts of an ant«. That is certainly true for the Red Planet
variety. The lion head craves flesh and the ant body diverse herbs.
Thus, what it devours cannot sustain it. It is perpetually famished.
No. Appearing: 1 hd: 5 ac: As chain mail Morale: 9
Attacks: 1 Bite (1d10) then Drag below: Drags prey into the
sand. Save or suffocate (1d6) every turn.
mv: As large cat, half while burrowing. Saves As: Fighter
Special: Surprises 4-in-6 from below. Alignment: Chaotic
Treasure: 50% 3d100 gp, 25% 1d4 pieces of jewellery (2d100
each) in stomach.

4
Lair: The antlion’s lake
The antlion habitually loosens the earth around its pit, forming a
quicksand lake that serves as both trap (save or stuck) and larder.

Spoors
Waves in sand, coughed up carcass balls, roaring in distance.

What is the antlion doing?

1  Laying in wait in shallow pool of quicksand.
2  Frantically eating a goat or lizard, purring and clicking.
3  Roaring in impotent hunger, greedily rubbing front legs.
4  Impatiently drooling while struggling traveller (p. 24) is
slowly drawn to bottom of quicksand lake.
5  Sunbathing, too stuffed to move. Still famished.
6  Vomits half-digested carcass ball. Whimpering.
7  Chased by goatherders with nets, torches and invectives.
8  Cleaning its newly hatched (inconsolably hungry) cubs.

Rumours about antlions

1  Clever goatherders regularly stuff sacrificial goats full with
nutritious salts and herbs, thus keeping local antlions
alive but full, content and harmless.
2  More parsimonious goatherders throw poisoned meats
into the antlion’s lake.
3  The pit in the centre of the sand lake is generally filled with
bones. And the valuables of careless travellers.
4  Somewhere in the depths there is an antlion queen, with
the head of an ant and the body of a ­gargantuan lioness.
5  Antlions can’t burrow through wet sand.
6  Naturalists suspect it a moralist set piece from one of the
Pious Eras. Heated debates over its significance has raged
for generations.

5
 Dune Siren

Beautiful voices beckon the weary traveller to leave the r­elative

safety of the road. Few can r­esist the alluring call of the desert
Rå. ­Presenting as ­beauti­ful specimens of a suitable gender, these
­ancient homunculi drink the souls of their victims.
No. Appearing: 1d6 hd: 2+1 ac: Naked Morale: 8
Attacks: 1 Bite (1d6) mv: As human Saves As: Magic-User
Special 1: Charm those who listen. Save vs magic or succumb to
their requests, fighting anyone trying to stop you.
Special 2: Drain victim of one permanent Cha per turn, healing
1d6 hp. Last in turn, announced and interruptible as per spells.
6 Treasure: Each adorned with 2d100 worth of jewellery
Lair: Spectators’ Grotto
Dried-up eyeless bodies of varying age litter the floor. Puddles of
ecstatic tears. 2d100 eyes have been placed in the crevices of the
walls, ravenous for a glimpse of their masters/mistresses.

Spoors
Soft voices in the wind. Eyeless but otherwise unharmed bodies.

Rumours about Dune Sirens

1  They collect their victims’ eyes, bathing in their adoration.
2  The best way to hunt them is to let someone be entranced
while connected to a long rope.
3  Once works of art, the sirens hunger for an audience.
4  No, they are the ghosts of unresolved love affairs.
5  Spymasters and voyeurs pay handsomely for an eye hoard.
6 Veteran ­caravan leaders fill their ears with wax or c­ otton.
If you can’t hear them, they can’t entrance you.

magic item: never-blinking eye

Some eyes (5%) remain fully functional after the siren’s demise
and work as prosthetics. A magic-user can spend a downtime
­period of at least a week to align herself with an eye,
­after which it can be used for remote surveillance.
Takes up one memorization slot until deactivated, and
must be in physical contact to be reactivated.

What is the dune siren doing?

1  Adored by lost caravan (p. 22), playing with its food.
2  Singing broken verses from ancient opera.
3  Takes the shape of a pc’s childhood sweetheart.
4  Presenting as the hazy memories of a night of debauchery.
5  Rearranging its eye hoard to give everyone a better view.
6  Bathing in a pool of tears, laughing with childish mirth.

7
 Cinomolgus

The cinomolgi are migratory birds, known for building their nests
with cinnamon wood collected from faraway climes. To hunt them
is to court death, but a single nest lets a band of cinnamon hunters
live comfortably for a year.

No. App.: 1-2 hd: 12 ac: As leather Morale: 8 Saves As: Fighter
Attacks: 1 Beak (2d8) or 2 Talons (1d8) mv: Triple human in air
Special 1: Lift victim hit with talons (save or brought to nest)
Gluttonous: When full, must pass a save to take to the air, and
another not to break its nest with its own weight
Treasure (in lair): Cinnamon bark worth 10d6 x 100 gp
8
Lair: Cinnamon branch nest
High above in ancient pines. The ground below is littered with
feces, red-and-yellow feathers, pine cones and the bones of game.
The nest itself an emperor’s ransom in cinnamon branches.

spoors
The smell of cinnamon & rotting meat. Red-and-yellow feathers.

What is the cinomolgus doing?

1  Eating a still living, bellowing ox (automatically surprised).
2  Circling above the pcs.
3  Enticing a mate with its call and a trail of cinnamon bark.
4  Teaching its 1d4 young to fly (hd 2).
5  Fighting with jackals over a carcass.
6  Wounded with lead arrows (flightless, half hp).

1d6 facts about cinnamon hunters

1  Most belong to the Fragrant Society, a guild that supplies
the over-indulged tastebuds of Canal gentry with the
rare spices they require to be roused from their ennui.
2  One of the few categories of people brave enough to leave
the relative safety of the imperial roads voluntarily.
3  They mimic the bird’s mating call with jet black shells.
4  Fattened oxen used as bait make the bird too full to fly.
5  Leaden arrows are used to weigh down airborne birds.
6  They are friendly to travellers, but known to use them as
bird bait if the oxen runs out.

unlockable class: cinnamon hunter

Encountering a cinomolgus unlocks a new Red Planet class:
The Cinnamon Hunter. See p. 30 for details.

9
 Tardigrade

The Ur-Bear was there before the Canals. It will be there when they
dry up, one final ­hibernation into eternity. These gentle giants graze-
sift through sand and soil. Stay clear and they stay gentle.

No. Appearing: 1 (25% 1d4 hd 1 cubs) hd: 5 ac: Like mail

Morale: 7 mv: Like oxen Saves As: Fighter
Attacks: 4 Claws (1d4) or 1 Bite (1d6)
Special: Hug an opponent hit with 2+ claws for 2d8
Special 2: Hibernation. When at half hp or failing morale, the
ur-bear empties its saltine glands. Save or be encased in salt
(1d6, blinded and at 1/4 speed). The now-emaciated ur-bear
attempts to burrow itself to safety.
Treasure: A subdued tardigrade is a sought after beast of
­burden. Their saltine glands can be used as gas traps.
10
lair: hibernating colonies
Dry natural caves, filled with dried-out husks of tardigrades.
spoors
Long line of expelled soil/sand, crystal egg shells, claw marks
What is the tardigrade doing?
1  Sifting in a very flattering portrait pattern traced out with
food. Artist and model are watching expectantly from a
hot air balloon high above.
2  Tending eggs in the half-buried remains of a bath house.
Easy to surprise, but morale 11.
3  Making its mating call, probably in vain (like whale song,
deep, complex and unique to each individual).
4  Has been forcibly awakened from hibernation. Emaciated
(hd 1), disoriented and exposed to the elements.
5  In a frenzy. A dozen hunting spears stick out from its blood-
soaked body. Remains of hunters in its foaming mouth.
6  Staring longingly into the sky, small lizards cleaning its back.
1d6 tales about the ur-bear
1  They are the favoured beast of burden of the desert, passed
down through the generations. Homesteads are often
named after their tardigrade.
2  Tardigrades never forget a slight, and sing their grudges to
their peers across the dunes.
3  The more water one adds, the larger they grow.
4  No new eggs will be lain on the Red Planet; they know this.
5  Emaciated ur-bear rations are virtually imperishable; just
add water.
6  Tardigrades don’t seem to mind the Great Vacuum.

11
 Melachilisk
The Virtuous Serpent, the dried-up tear duct of Arean morality,
scourge of the vices of yesteryear. A product of the Pious Eras, the
­melachilisks were soon driven out into the wilderness by those who
still had an appetite for life. Their descendants slither through the
desert sand, turning those found wanting into pillars of salt.

No. App.: 1 with 1d3-1 acolytes

hd: 3 ac: As chain Morale: 9
Saves As: Fighter
Attacks: 1 bite (1d8)
mv: As human
Alignment: Lawful
Special: Judging gaze. Requires
eye contact. If the victim is guilty
of preferred vice, they must save
or turn into salt.
Treasure: 1d8-1 pillars of salt,
flavoured by the vice in question
(500 gp, x1d12 if sold to amoral
gourmet)

12
Lair
Ruined temples, derelict lyceums, active places of worship.
1-in-4 that there are 2d8 acolytes devoted to the serpent.

spoors
Surprised salt statues, discarded marble-coloured skins.

1d6 impermissible vices

1  Furtive avarice: Carrying more than 200 gp out of sight.
2  Petty violence: Outside of sport, duel or war.
3  Insurgent heart: Speaking ill of the Emperor.
4  Ending discourse: Not getting the last word.
5  Trying and failing: At anything in its presence.
6  Flat lies: Only the twisted and baroque are holy.

What is it doing?
Always looking to strike up conversation in the hope of catching
sinners in the act. Not above provoking (or facilitating) vice.
1  Bemoaning the contemporary state of morals, attended to
by penitent half turned to salt.
2  Molting (surprised, -1 ac).
3  Hunting small game, reminiscing over feasts in temples past
with a passé artist. The latter coaches potential victims in
how to maintain dramatic poses when turning into salt.
4  Partners with a salt merchant posing as desperate victim.
5  Pretending to be detail on statue, eavesdropping on sinners,
waiting for report from local busybody (out of her depth).
6  Teaching hatchlings proper doctrine and hunting strata-
gems. Scared goatherder serves as unwilling example.

13
 Road Elemental

Long-time use and anxious prayers have given purpose and person to this
stretch of road. The mileposts work as improptu altars, covered by small
offerings and incense. Grown used to the attention, this road is as quick to
anger as it is susceptible to flattery.

No. Appearing: 1 hd: 8 (Greater Road: 16) ac: As chain Morale: 8

mv: As a racing horse Saves As: Fighter Alignment: Neutral
Attacks: Paving stone fists (1d8) (Greater Road: 3d8)
Special 1: Reroute. At the cost of a hd, the road may move 24 miles
in a random direction, transporting anyone standing on it to the new
location. Happens at end of turn, interrupted if it suffers damage.
Special 2: If defeated by mundane weapons the road vanishes, but
reforms as a path (1 hd) after a week, and grows 1 hd/week until
reformed.
Treasure: Road elementals can be tricked, forced or bargained with
into forming a pact as per the next page.
14
spoors
Immaculately kept road, milepost altars, a slight motion sickness

What is the condition of the road?

1  Stretching out in the sunshine, fishing for compliments.
2  Taking a nap, very startled if disturbed.
3  Magnanimously accepting offerings from a caravan (p. 22).
4  Demanding a toll (will double its length if refused).
5  At a crossroads, wrestling with its dumb intersector.
6  Inconsolable, having lost the ancient road map proving its
long, proud pedigree. The pcs are the most likely culprits.

a pact with the pavement

Road elementals are not exempt from Natural Law, and must
follow any entered pact to the letter. While a skilled jurist could
coax them into one, others have two options for reaching a deal:
• Making a great first impression (12+ on a reaction roll)
Can be modified by lavish gifts: Stylish mileposts, flattery in
travelogue, bridge repairs. (cost: 1 000 gp + two weeks per +1)
• Resorting to violence (reducing it to 1 hp)
Vindictive: Will weaponize any poor choice of wording.
The pact must be formalized in a written contract, and can be
traded, stolen, destroyed. The owner must memorize its fine print
before use as per spell memorization. Non-jurists are limited to
one active pact at a time.

three example pacts

To be invoked once per day, while being on a paved road.
The Scenic Route. Decrease the daily travel speed of a known
pursuer with (the road’s hd) miles.
Downhill All the Way. Increase the travel speed of the party
with (the road’s hd) miles.
Charm Caravan. The elemental lures a caravan (p. 22) in this
direction. Arrives in 1d6 hours, willing to sell basic supplies.
15
Prickly
Tailor

Well-kept Toile Thistle farms once

provided experimental garments
for high coutoure phytailors. Now
the fast-growing shrub flourishes
in the wilderness, with flowers in
impossible shapes. Bizarre juxtapositions of rock-and-tardigrade, bone-
and-pill­ar, barnaclids ready to perish for the sake of the mother plant.
Thistle Field
hd: 1d12 hd, covering hd x 10 square feet. ac: None
Special 1: Melee attackers must save or take 1d4 thorn damage
Special 2: Triple damage from fire.
Treasure: 1d4 seeds /hd, 1 roll on Flowers table on next page.
Barnaclids
No. App.: 1d4 per 10 square feet hd: 1 ac: As leather Morale: 12
Saves As: Magic-User Attacks: 1d6 mv: as human
Special: Won’t go further than 20 ft from thistle field
16 Special 2: Triple damage from fire
spoors
Dried-up petal garments, dead patches of thistles.

1d6 Flowers
Burgundy, wither in 1d6 days if not watered regularly
1  Liqueur glasses in shape of antlions.
2  Petal lap dog, loyal to the one who cuts it loose.
3  Behemoth tooth. The original below is worth 1 000 gp
to collectors or 250 gp as raw material for ivory carvers.
Would make an excellent +1 2h blade.
4  1d6 exquisite and impractical dresses (50 gp each). A still
working pattern plate lies buried below.
5  Chainmail, ‘rings’ in shape of sturgeons swallowing their
tails. (ac: chain, weight: cloth, 3x damage from fire).
6  Slender sailboat. Functional but prone to tear.

1d4 Rumours among cloth merchants

1  The prickly tailors fear fire above all else.
2  Burrowing garments next to a field will yield a harvest in a
few weeks time, but you better sell fast and be on your way.
3  The copy of a copy of a Toile Thistle will yield a Gala Tree.
It will only give a single, but imperishable, flower.
4  The prickly tailor can be a faithful botanical guardian. The
shrub will imprint on the planter, only expecting a loving
word or caress before opening a path through the hedge.

biomantic item: toile thistle seed

Plant the seed together with a pattern plate or an item. Grow rap-
idly, it overtakes any surrounding vegetation. In 2d4 days it bears
1d4 flower replicas (withering as above). Branches and barnaclids
crowd around the gardener like good dogs waiting for a pet.
As the roots spread out and come across other buried shapes,
subsequent flowerings slowly turn into weird floral collages.

17
 Spellridden
Jackals

Forgotten ‘mantics of diverse origins, ‘ologies of entire schools of

thought litter the ruins of the Thin Desert, slowly seeping out of their
containers. While not techniqually alive, they were made to reside
in the minds of mortals, and some have a hard time kicking that
habit. Anyone will do: Farmhands, poets or, more often, packs of
over-inquisitive canines. The spell imprints itself on the pack, and
cares little if it drives its hosts to an early grave.
18
 No. Appearing: 1d6 x spell level hd: 1 ac: Leather Morale: 11
mv: As human Saves As: Thief Alignment: Chaotic
Attacks: Bite (1d6) If number of bites > Wis bonus, the victim
must save or fall into seizures, joining the pack after 1d10 turns.
Special: As per the What Rides This Pack? table on next page
Special 2: The spell is broken if a morale roll is failed
Treasure: The skin of each animal is covered with writhing
spells, changing diagrams. If tanned, they work as scrolls.

spoors
Eerily regular paw patterns, howls on the verge of speech

what is the pack doing?

1  Moving synchronized and silently, as if stirred by hidden
puppet master. Some with obviously broken limbs.
2  Starved in deep hole, digging for buried grimoire.
3  Short of breath, sprawled out and panting.
4  On hind legs, enacting an antediluvian rite.
5  Circling panicked goats (twitching and bleating while the
spell imprints itself on its new vessels).
6  Silently consuming a fallen pack member, eyes vacant.

caravan tales to frighten and delight

1  Being bitten imparts contagious arcane knowledge.
2  The jackal pack dynamics excrete reality-warping magic.
3  A well-preserved skin can be used as a scroll for the spell.
4  They follow the scent of magic-users, trailing them for days.
5  A dominated pack can be used as a living grimoire.
6  When a spell grows too strong, it can infect whole cities:
Best-Forgotten Aporius turned into an abomination of flesh
and architecture and had to be burned to the ground.

19
What Rides the Pack? Turn page to find out →
 What rides this pack? (size of pack)
Detailing effects on the pack. For spell descriptions, see p. 28.
1  Für Aromasia. Short Piece for a Weather Organ (2d6)
A scented mist moves in, voluptous, green eyed and fanged.
Effect: -4 to-hit, roll individual surprise every turn.
2  Endocarp of the Pomegranate Pretender (2d6)
As you cut them down, they multiply, a collective hydra.
Effect: When hit, 1-in-4 that a jackal spawns 1d3 1 hp clones
(exploding into sarcotesta when hit).
3  Light of Last Sunrise (1d6)
A pack of blonde beasts, with barks of blinding light.
Bark: Those in melee must save or be blinded for the turn.
4  The Untimely Passing of the Walls of Oxus (5d6)
When the pack stalks closer, rocks turn into slippery pools
of blood, the air fills with the lamentations of the long dead.
Effect: Dex or slip after attack (free attack for melee foes).
5  Ever-Flowing Vintage of Tanaïs (4d6)
Bites that intoxicate, dripping crimson froth. And, stumbling
after the pack: a throng of bite-covered drunkards.
Effects: A cumulative -1 on to-hit for each bite.
3d10 drunkards join the fray (hp 1, 1d4 dam).
6  Ruic’s Taciturn Kiss (3d6)
The pack prattles on in the voices of former victims.
Effect: The first landed bite steals voice (permanently).

20
 Petty hermits
The Great Vacuum beckons to those souls who long
for solitude and the Sublime. The narrow confines of
the Thin Desert attract other kinds of recluses: Those
who linger on the margin of society, ­secretly pleased at
­interruptions, whether a group of fawning pilgrims or
the respectful nod of a goat herder.

1  Extremely parched denier-of-sun atop unstable rock

pillar, cogently arguing that eternal night is upon us.
2  Libertine snake armourer, with a den of melachilisk
hatchlings. Their juvenile gazes only petrify skin-deep.
(+1 ac, -1 dex, -1 cha for a week spent listing indiscretions)
3  Potlatch conductor. Pairs of rivals feed her bonfire with absurd
luxuries or wasted necessities, depending on grievance.
4  Bone garden seer. Prunes and grafts bones into new shapes.
5  Tardigrade wild child. Old and wrinkled, with adoptive kin.
6  Deimosian rope climber. Perched atop a ruined tower, stinks
of catnip, ready to lasso the moon.
7  Rememberer of the Sleeping City, repeating the names of its
streets and temples, naming the herbs of its botanical garden.
8  Failed sophist of the Spiralling Dialectic. Shamefaced idealist,
whose maieutics keep stumbling into the Good, the True, etc.
9  Martyred echo, manacled to a block of marble. Eaten alive
every night by wildlife. Claims to be personification of an
ill-conceived joke about one of the Blue Clay Emperors.
10 The Fair Weather of Llo vowed not to depart for as long as one
virtuous citizen born in that city yet lived. She has grown old
in her exile, anxiously waiting for a young replacement.
11  Spellridden copyist making scroll after scroll of a random
spell. The scrolls spread the compulsion on a failed save.
12  Stranded tax collector, improvising grounds for taxation.
“Give to Phobos what belongs to Phobos”, full stop.
21
 caravans
To join, waylay or trade with. 1d4-1 travellers (p 24) have joined
for safety.

No. App: 2d12 workers (1 hp), 3d4 guards (stats as bandits)

Mode of transport: 1-3 by foot, 4-5 tardigrade-and-cart, 6 camels
Direction: 1: Thoth to Nepenthes. 2: Nepenthes to Thoth.

1  A train of porters, carrying amphoras of aged vinegar and

­baskets of thistles to the Flagellante Despondency of Athabasc.
2  The Tithe of Persb. An ancient treaty requires the League
of ­Hitae to hand over the flower of its youth every 30 years
to ­ensure their continued thralldom to the Temple of Persb.
­Seldom has such a choice collection of half-witted, sickly
­speciments been collected. 1-in-4: They carry the Purple Plague.
3  A secretive band of cinnamon hunters with a great many
oxen & armed with lead arrows. Will go off-road in their
hunt for the fragrant nests of the voracious cinomolgus.
4  Opportunistic purveyors of half-withered statues (very
much in vogue along this stretch of the Thoth). The c­ aravan is
one of many under-equipped, over-enthusiastic attempts to
get rich quick before the fad ends. Will soon go off-road.
1-in-2: A rival caravan has been rushed together, one day behind.
5  Pilgrims on their way to the pillar-sophists of the Spiralling
Dialectic, where the sharpest minds of a generation show by
example how fragile the balance of sanity, how fleeting the
monuments of men and gods.
6  Conspirators with recently unearthed genealogical records, in
a bid to further upset power structures in crumbling Jamuna.
Double amount of guards, 1-in-4 risk of being waylaid every day.

22
7  Two competing porcelain merchants, forced to cooperate
for safety. The mode du jour along the stretch of Canal they
normally frequent is firmly in favour of wooden dinner-
ware, making the price on porcelain plummet. Hopefully
fashions differ on the other side of the desert.
8  Frankincense traders. Covered in scars from their many
­encounters with the winged serpents that guard the spice.
One u ­ rbear-driver has hidden a number of snake eggs,
­intent on retiring with his own frankincense grove.
9  Yeasts-of-many-colours, collected by an exiled master cook
trying to get back into the good graces of the Emperor (who
has vowed never to break the same bread twice).
10  Covered carts, filled with rose bushes. The caravan is loaded
with water, its members working in shifts to keep the roses
well-watered and cared for. (Actually a front for blue poppy
smugglers. The flowers are illegal in most places along the
Twin Canals, for fear of a second Sleeping City, but since they
are a very potent stimulant for poets and mystics, there will
always be buyers.)
11  Peaches from the Dellavolpe orchards. The stone of each
peach is biomantically marked with the orchard’s seal of
quality, and will not grow outside of the estate.
12  A quite ordinary caravan, carrying (1d8): 1. Almond milk.
2 Nutmeg. 3. Molluscs in oil. 4. S­ affron. 5. Antiques from the
lost glassworks of Nili ­Fossae. 6. Perfumed salts. 7. Dormant
singing plants 8. Exquisite mats.

23
 travellers
If not part of a caravan:
On their way to: 1. Nepenthes. 2. Thoth
Their general situation (d12):
1-6  Well-stocked and trudging along.
7  Barely escaped an encounter further up the road.
8  Robbed and abandoned by caravan. Very thirsty.
9  Their ur-bear has gone into hibernation.
10  Having coffee in the shade, admiring ruins.
11   Sleepwalking, stumbling towards the Sleeping City.
12  Dead.

2  Ancient urchin. Ever-Younger, disgraced viceroy of Lim.

Spends his second youth as pickpocket and rumourmonger.
3  One-armed terracottieri deserter. Needs clay to repair itself.
4  Sturgeonites with carefully covered gills and webbed hands,
moving a caviar nursery hidden among barrels of cider.
5  Jurist specializing in natural law. On the run after ruining a
simple contract of dormancy with minor volcano.
6  Astrologist, brooding over the movement of heavenly ­bodies,
giving unasked-for interpretations of dreams and omens.
7  Theatre troupe. Beautiful animal masks, inane script. The
actors are painfully aware of this, and want a new play.
8  Would-be settlers leaving dustbowled homestead.
9  Landscape painter, with letters of recommendation from
several prominent elementals.
10  Hopeful suitor with entourage. Coffers filled with blind
silk spiders busily weaving complicated apparel.
11  Pythagorean tutor. Belongs to a sect practicing forbidden
arithmetics. With complicated abacus, two yawning pupils.

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12  Writer of travelogues, looking for exotic vistas and customs.
Writer’s block, and a readership impatient for their next book.
13  Imperial courier. Her report would bruise the fragile ego
of the emperor, and spell her death. Splendidly impractical
clothing. Sylph-in-a-bottle for one-way trip to Phobos.
14  Connoisseur of drugs from the Microlevant-by-the-Thoth.
Oscillates between obtrusive mania and quiet reveries. Owns
a traveller’s pharmacy with spectacular variety of stimulantia.
15  Fugitive from the Sleeping City. Has slept for centuries,
now insomniac afraid of dreaming forth new horrors.
16  Retired mercenary, on her way to the Cutting Gardens to
plant her scimitars for good. Too old, so she says, for this shit.

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 nature runs amok!
Flora, fauna and fellow men are not the only hazards facing those
who cross the Thin Desert. During the Pious Eras, more than
one ­emperor tried to compensate for a lifetime of debauchery by
­providing the holy men of the Thin Desert with some comfort in
their solitude. But even works of goodwill require maintenance,
and over the aeons many have run amok.

1 Canal mist. Latter-day-dandelions and vermilion shrubs

spring up and stand in bloom for a day.
2 Metropolis Mirage. The landscape turns into a phantas­
magoria of lost architecture, the road bifurcating into
winding alleys. Lose your bearings and stumble into the
Sleeping City if you don’t take a break.
3 Sandstorm. Dust devils fill the air with whistling laughter.
Vision restricted to m
­ elee range. 1 hp damage per turn if
poorly equipped. Lasts for 1d4 days.
4 Heatwave. Anyone not doubling their intake of water
takes 1 hp damage per hour.
5 God-Builder Fog. Corpusculars of abandoned faiths take
flight, combining into shapes of unthought-of deities.
Most melt away in the breeze, some turn into statues.
6 Acid rain. The heavens wept wine once. Like so many
other things, the vintage has spoiled with time, burning
the land it once succoured. 1d6 damage each turn spent
under the open skies, ruins clothing permanently.
7 Manna from heaven. Implemented to feed the desert’s
many eremites during the Pious Eras. Once moved like
clockwork over the length of the desert, now erratic.
Yields as many rations as you can carry.

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8 Fraternal Hail. What used to be a light snow, spreading a
general sentiment of altruism, now falls as fist-sized hail-
stones. Save every turn or take 1d4 damage and become
one with all living things for damage received hours.
9 Redgrocer swarming. When the Thoth ebbs, and the tune-
ful Nepenthes rises out of bed, the red­grocers pour forth from
the land, playing a shrill vesper. Bred as a counter-measure
to the plague of monetary ­ inflation, these ­ferrophagic
­cicadas have turned into a scourge of their own, swarming
according to some long lost ­conjunctural clock. A failed
­save means that all your ­unconcealed metal ­objects are
consumed by clouds of insects.
10 The winds depart. Perhaps the local clime has ­reneged
on an ancient agreement. Perhaps the s­ tipulated duration
of the contract has simply run its course. What­ever the
­reason, the winds are rapidly departing. By this time next
day all air will have departed from the area.
11 Landscape Castling. Even the most picturesque s­cenery
invites lassitude after a longer or shorter season. To ward
off acedia among the desert saints, the emperor Tuskoob
contrived a plan for rearranging the landscape. That plan
is in tatters, but the petites montagnes bound in service
still butt heads from time to time. All topography within
the area is reversed; ­valleys to hills, etc. Dex checks for all
­physical activity while the earthquake lasts, saves to avoid
falling ­debris where applicable.
12 Last Flight of the Dead. The classical cloud pantomime
of ­undead rebels fleeing before pursuing imperial heroes.
­Performance perfectly on schedule. Soon the roadside is
filled with the garish tents of artlovers, binaculars g­ littering
in the sun. Oohs, aahs and the snapping of fingers abound.

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 drusticc’s abridged dowry
A Red Planet Grimoire

Endocarp of the Pomegranate Pretender (Level 2)

Made for an emperor shirking his official duties (with f­amously
disastrous results), the spell creates 1d4 1 hp duplicates of the
caster. When hit, they break into 1d12 pomegranate sarcotesta.
If planted and tended, they grow into new (pliant) copies in 2d4
days. Third gen: Duplicitous, homicidal maniacs (stats as caster).
Cost for non-mages: After use, the caster is forgotten by a friend.

Ever-Flowing Vintage of Tanaïs (Level 4)

Spirits away a barrel of wine from the Imperial wine cellar on
high-above Phobos.
Cost for non-mages: 1-in-6 after use that a cup bearer notices the
theft. Roll 1d6 each subsequent use: On a 1 the wine is poisoned.
Für Aromasia. Short piece for a Weather Organ (Level 2)
Summons a thick cloud, shaped like a 30 ft woman. Those in-
side the cloud have -4 to-hit and roll for surprise each turn.
Cost for non-mages: Roll a save after use. If failed, the cloud won’t
leave the caster for 24 hours (effects as above + half travel speed).

Light of Last Sunrise (Level 1)

Conjures a day’s worth of light and stores it in a vessel. Every
use shortens the sun’s life with a day. The caster knows this.
Cost for non-mages: Insomniac: After use, roll a save to benefit
from your next rest. Otherwise plagued by visions of dying planet.

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Ruic’s Taciturn Kiss (Level 3)
Permanently steals the target’s voice with a kiss on the mouth. No
saves ­allowed. The caster can use her collection as she sees fit.
Cost for non-mages: Loses own voice.

The Untimely Passing of the Walls of Oxus (Level 5)

Up to 3 000 square feet of stone turns into blood soaked sand.
The casting is accompanied by the screams of those Oxians
who were massacred when their city walls suddenly crumbled.
Cost for non-mages: Can no longer operate locks.

a note on arean magic and its costs

Oh, a way to make people fall asleep? That reminds me
of The Dream Thief ’s Little Helper. Of course, that spell
is slightly more subtle than what you are proposing.
The Red Planet is an old world. All conceivable spells have already
been invented at one point or other in ­history. This is reflected in
the spell names. There is no such thing as Create Water. Here, the
spells invariably carry the names of long dead masters, of s­ plendid
cities lost to the desert, of gods no l­onger worshipped. They are
found engraved in tombs, in moldy ­grimoires, riding packs of
jackals. If there once was a border between magic and divine, it
has has been crossed so many times that it has lost all significance.
Anyone can use spells, but the price is high for those who lack
the proper training. It takes a toll on their body and soul (lower
an ability score permanently by the spell level), and the spell
warps them in its own image (a specific, permanent and p ­ alpable
cost or curse associated with its effect). Foolhardy magic-
users can learn spells above their level by paying the same price.
An untrained mind can’t memorize more than one spell per day.

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 Unlockable Class: Cinnamon Hunter
Out of the wastes, with frankincense and bitter myrrh
Languages: Lingua martia
Armor and Weapons: Any, except plate
Levels, Saves, Attacks, hd: As Cleric
Starting equipment: Black conch horn, unspent gp in cinnamon
Abilities
Level 1:
• Scorn the Commonplace: When offered the choice between
bare necessity and luxury, you must choose the latter or lose
access to all class abilities until you have wasted gp equal to xp
required for your last lvl on something extravagant.
• One of the Fragrancy: Use downtimes to learn a new secret
­technique or gain lvl d4 doses of the italicized item in its title.
• Tracker: 3-in-6 base chance to pursue prey in the wilderness.
Level 2:
• Mating Call: Mimic the passionate longing of the cinomolgi.
1-in-6 that one arrives in 1d4 hours, reaction roll modified by
your level. Takes an hour and requires a black conch horn.
Level 4:
• Trained nose: You recognize most poisons, drugs and spices
by smell. -1 on all rolls when confronted by horrible stench.
Level 5:
• Riding the Wind. Latching yourself to a cinomolgus, you can
guide its flight by playing on your horn.
Level 7:
• Master seasoner: Food poisons in dishes prepared by you are
undetectable by most mundane means. And they taste great!
Level 9:
• Hunting Party: Gains permission to open her own lodge in a
city, attracting 2d6 lvl 1 hunters willing to risk life and limb in
the hunt for rare foodstuffs and forgotten perfumes.
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 This will surely end well.
secret techniques of the fragrant society
1  Frankincense Charmer: You have tamed one of the winged
snakes that guard the hidden frankincense groves. Stats as
a falcon, reroll failed surprise rolls in the wilderness.
2  Myrrh Weeper: You know the phrases that bring forth
­fragrant tears. Force a morale check from flora once per day.
3  Saffron Sage: You know how to haggle like a priest. Use at
altars to gain a one-time use of a random lvl 1 cleric spell
4  Catnip Climber: A dose lets you climb and fall like a cat for
an hour. Immediately noticed by nearby (purring) felines.
5  Caviar Crèche Raider: You fight as well under water as on
land and can hold your breath for 10 + lvl minutes.
6  Salt Sycophant: Melachilisk trade has made you a savant in
flattery. Give a compliment to reroll a reaction once per day.
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 Thin Desert Encounters
Every morning, afternoon and night: Roll 1d6
1 indicates an encounter as per the table below
2 indicates a sign of the next encounter (if the
next encounter roll shows a 1 or a 2)

On the Imperial road during daytime, roll 1d6

Off the road or during the night, roll 2d6
1  Road Elemental (p 14) 7  Ur-Bear (p 10)
2  Nature Runs Amok! (p 26) 8  Antlion (p 4)
3  Traveller (p 24) 9  Prickly Tailor (p 16)
4  Caravan (p 22) 10  Cinomolgus (p 8)
5  Petty Hermit (p 21) 11  Melachilisk (p 12)
6  Dune Siren (p 6) 12  Spellridden Jackals (p 18)

Through the
Thin Desert #1