![]() ![]() ![]() It’s a thankless job-living day to day by your armor and the skill of your arm, diving heedlessly into danger. You’ll take your share of the treasure, but will you ever walk as one of them? Only time will tell. You walk the old ways, you wear the pelts of the earth itself. ![]() Their gods are children, their steel is false protection. They speak of the glory they’ll find back in that festering town you left behind. Listen to your allies pray to their carved stone gods and polish their silver shells. You may have had a life before, maybe you were a city dweller like them, but not now. You are of the sacred spaces you are born of soil and wear the marks of her spirits on your skin. Whatever your inspiration, they would certainly fail without your sharp senses and sharper claws. What has brought you to these people, stinking of the dust and sweat of the city? Perhaps it is a kindness-do you protect them as the mother bear watches over her cubs? Are they your pack, now? Strange brothers and sisters you have. God lives at the edge of a blade.Ĭast your eyes around the fire. Some say that it’s best to keep the gods close to your heart. It falls to you to proselytize with sword and mace and spell, to cleave deep into the witless heart of the wilds and plant the seed of divinity there. That’s why it needs you.īringing the glory of your god to the heathens isn’t just in your nature-it’s your calling. They’re lousy with the walking dead, beasts of all sorts, and the vast unnatural spaces between safe and temple-blessed civilizations. The lands of Dungeon World are a gods-forsaken mess. Who better than you to write the tale of your own heroism? Someone’s got to be there, fighting shoulder-to-shoulder with the goons and the thugs and the soon-to-be-heroes. Sharpen that hidden dagger and take up the call. A mere minstrel can retell a thing, but it takes a true bard to live it. You, with your smooth tongue and quick wit. The tales told in every farmhand-filled inn have to have some ring of truth to them, don’t they? The songs to inspire peasantry and royals alike-to soothe the savage beast or drive men to a frenzy-have to come from somewhere.Įnter the bard. The poems say an adventurer’s life is all open roads and the glory of coin and combat. There are monstrous things lurking in the world. Who better to retrieve it than a band of stalwart heroes? More gold and jewels and magic lost to man have fallen between the cracks in the world than you can imagine. Or is this the Cursed Wood, where dwells the Gray Witch? Or the throngs of hateful dead, looking to drag a meaty corpse back to their lair? Scary, sure, but there’s treasure, too. Slavering hordes of goblin troops, maybe. Every time the ranger guides his friends through the ancient woods there are a hundred things waiting to bite his head off. It isn’t all easy heroics and noble bravery, though. Treasure and glory are sought by a holy cleric, a tricky thief, a mighty paladin, and more. Others are more mysterious, conjuring up and wielding the mighty forces of magic. Some are near-invincible beasts of battle encased in iron armor. The races of elves, men, dwarves, and halflings all have their heroes. Brave heroes venture into the most dangerous corners of the land in search of gold and glory.Īdventurers take many shapes in Dungeon World. A world of magic, gods and demons, of good and evil, law and chaos. Dungeon World is a world of fantastic adventure. ![]()
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